


Amethyst Should Not be Set in Gold

by victoriousscarf



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Erebor Never Fell, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Multi, Role Reversal, Royalty, Slow Burn, excessive excuses to put precious gems in dwarf's hair, your sex is a matter of politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-01-09 23:37:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 36,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousscarf/pseuds/victoriousscarf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were amethysts in Ori’s hair the day Thorin returned to Erebor.</p><p>Rumors swirled around the court for weeks in advance, Ori sitting beside the throne, parchment on his lap and ink on his fingers. Countless days his father moaned, holding Ori’s hands like they were a betrayal of the very throne the king sat on, scolding him for acting like a common scribe. There were plenty of other’s to take down court records if they were needed. But on the days Ori had no paper, he fidgeted and stared too long at stone carvings, sometimes missing entire minutes of conversation. He took to wearing long sleeves, as if that could hide his fingers without getting ink on fabric as well.</p><p>(Ori is crown prince of Erebor. Fili... is not)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Held a Jewel in My Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lapin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lapin/gifts).



> Me a few hours ago: I will absolutely not start another story until I finish Alone in This War.
> 
> Me now: Whoops I tripped and fell on the keyboard. 
> 
> (Warnings, rating, characters and pairings subject to change/addition)

There were amethysts in Ori’s hair the day Thorin returned to Erebor.

Rumors swirled around the court for weeks in advance, Ori sitting beside the throne, parchment on his lap and ink on his fingers. Countless days his father moaned, holding Ori’s hands like they were a betrayal of the very throne the king sat on, scolding him for acting like a common scribe. There were plenty of other’s to take down court records if they were needed. But on the days Ori had no paper, he fidgeted and stared too long at stone carvings, sometimes missing entire minutes of conversation. He took to wearing long sleeves, as if that could hide his fingers without getting ink on fabric as well.

By the time Thorin strode through the gateway, every dwarf knew he was coming. It had been many years since Thorin had left, frustrated and bitter at being stopped at every turn. There were whispers of madness, of his father’s running off into the wilderness and Thorin’s rage whenever anyone dared say Thrain was dead. Few would accept that line into their homes or forges anymore so Thorin had packed his brother, his sister, and her family into a cart and left Erebor.

Now, he came back and no one could claim he was anything but a master as his craft, and his forge had gained not only patronage from Dain and the dwarves of the Iron Hills, but men and even a few elves. His work had traveled as far as Dale. One day Ori had spent hours in the market, hoping that maybe he would find nothing and Thorin would remain a specter far away from him, never touching him. Just as he was about to give the search up in triumph that nothing Thorin made could be found, he found a smaller stall, filled with weapons from across Middle Earth, and several swords of Thorin’s proudly displayed, with his mark.

Ori bought one so he would remember how far someone could fall, and yet how far they could still reach.

Luckily, no reason existed for Thorin to visit the royal court and so Ori spent the morning as he often did, sitting beside his father and at least trying to look the part of the royal prince he was. He felt like he was going to vibrate apart in anticipation and worry.

His intent to avoid Thorin all together though was ruined in the afternoon, when Nori appeared in his doorway. “Would you like to go to the market?” Nori asked, strolling in to Ori’s rooms as if they were his own. “There are new shipments coming in, a caravan. You never know what you might find.”

“I think you already know exactly what you would like to find,” Ori said, washing his hands in a basin in preparation to sit down to a private lunch. Nori snagged a roll of his plate, tearing the still warm bread open and happily munching on it. “Do you mind.”

“No,” Nori said after he swallowed. “You cannot tell me you are not in the least bit curious, at the least.” When Ori only stared at him, Nori laughed. “I truly heard that there were new books,” he added. “From the bookseller herself, she was expecting more to come in from the North and East.”

“I have no interest in seeing Thorin or his ilk,” Ori said, drying his hands off and gently setting the towel Dori had weaved for him aside. “They mean nothing and I am not worried.”

Nori’s look was unimpressed, his brows going up and hips shifting. “Which means you are concerned,” he said and Ori scowled at him. “They are novelties, Ori, not threats.”

“What could they possibly threaten?” Ori returned, sitting down at his table and pulling the plate toward him, not commenting when Nori sat down across from him and lifted berries and rolls.

“You always have the best food,” Nori said around a mouthful and ignored the look Ori gave him for that. “Anyway, you know as well as I do what that family threatens, if they were going to threaten anything,  _which they aren’t._ ”

For a moment, Ori twisted his hands around, the ink almost washed off except for several darker smudges. “I just want a quiet afternoon in, Nori. I get too few of those as it is.”

“You’re in all the time,” Nori protested. “You need to get out. Connect with the people.”

“Only you think that is a good idea for a prince,” Ori said, shoulders tightening. The court, most days, included more people than he could handle. The market place at least was different, with strangers that expected less from him if he pulled a hood up over his face.

“Wouldn’t rightly know, would I?” Nori replied. “You’re the only prince we got.”

Shifting in his seat, Ori looked down again, lunch only half eaten. “Please do not remind me of that.”

Nori leaned over the table, bracing his palm against the stone and his rude manners made Ori’s throat constrict with lectures he would never give his older brother. “Don’t worry,” Nori said. “If you unexpectedly kicked the bucket, I’m sure we could find some other royal. Eventually it might even wind back to me and Dori.”

“It would be pretty far,” Ori reminded him. Their mother had been tangentially related to the line of Durin, but she had several husbands in her life, and only Ori was born from the king. “Besides, I have no intention of dying.”

“That’s the spirit,” Nori said, patting his shoulder again. “Let’s go.”

Ori’s mouth tightened and he let out a long breath. “Why do you want to go and see them so badly anyway?” he asked. The thought of Thorin back in the mountain scared Ori more than he wanted to admit. While his father was strong on the throne, Ori never felt the same confidence that one day he would be. Thorin was an unknown, frighteningly close in the royal line and Ori heard the rumors, the whispers in the corridors of Erebor.

“Aren’t you curious?” Nori asked and Ori tried to shake his head, to shoo Nori out of the room and lock the stone door behind him. Instead, he only barely nodded.

-0-

“You really don’t have to hide,” Nori muttered and Ori ignored him, pulling the grey and purple woven hood a bit higher around his face. If Nori was not with him, he would be more concerned about how the material blocked his periphery vision.  But if there was anyone he trusted in the world, it was Nori.

“I’m not hiding,” he replied, even though he was, both hands holding onto the material.

Nori huffed, standing on his toes at one point to crane his neck around the marketplace. “Now, I think it was said Thorin took apartments down the next street.”

“You checked?” Ori hissed. “You actually laid groundwork? I thought you just said you were curious.”

Nori looked at him sideways. “And curiosity precludes groundwork?”

Ori only hissed at him again in annoyance and anger, the certainty only his patronage keeping his brother out of prison or worse a bad taste at the back of his mouth. “You take too many risks,” he muttered instead, turning down the street opposite the one Nori had indicated, ignoring the yelp from behind.

“Where you not listening?” Nori asked, catching up to him quickly.

“You said the bookseller had new volumes,” Ori said. “That is what I am here for, not sightseeing.”

Nori scowled but fell in step with him. “She said she commissioned a few new copies of texts in the Iron Hills,” he said, surly. “From that scribe you seemed to admire so much last time.”

“His work is very talented,” Ori said, having sat almost stunned before the gold leaf and mixed blues and reds of the text. He never felt sure about the idea that anyone would commission such expensive volumes just because he admired them, and part of him hoped it was appreciation of the talent in question.

Shrugging, Nori pushed his way into the small shop. The bookseller was an elite shop, not very large but with enough room to display the large leather bound volumes. Her only costumers were nobles and the wealthy. Even in a kingdom as prosperous as Erebor that number was not high.

Once his eyes landed on the first of the volumes in question, Ori was as in love with the ink and leather as he ever was. Nori laughed at him from behind his hand, already asking the seller to wrap the book up.

“I still do not think it is worth making a fuss over,” Ori said when Nori finally pried him away, carrying the book for him. “They are just dwarves, like everyone else.”

“Like everyone else,” Nori repeated, and Ori wished he had not bothered to open his mouth again.

“Like everyone else if they happened to be from a disgraced line of the royal tree,” Ori amended. “Who had stalked off to make a name for themselves elsewhere.”

Nori just shook his head and Ori saw them first.

It might have been a flash of gold that made him turn his head, but it was Thorin he saw first, standing tall and broad shouldered, coat a dusky blue and his black hair long and wild, constrained by only a few braids. The crowd around him seemed to bent outward, both from the distrustful regard that was given to all strangers and also from his commanding presence.

 Ori imagined him at the forge, creating swords and armor, all imbued with the passion of the fire inside him and matching the sword up to the man was not difficult. Nori breathed out some curse beside him, indicating he had followed his brother’s gaze at the moment when Ori’s eyes slide behind Thorin as he strode through the market, packages burdening his arms.

Strolling behind him, looser of limb and clearly less concerned either with their own thoughts or those of the crowd came two younger dwarves and Ori numbly registered them as Thorin’s nephews. Both the younger dwarves were also carrying packages and bundles, items to set up a home, furs for the beds and candlesticks and dishes.

One was taller, without much of a beard and he smiled easily at everyone they passed, chattering and only stopping when his brother said something to him in return. The other dwarf was shorter, stocky in the same way Thorin was but instead of his dark hair and brooding eyes, his face was young and open, hair blazing golden even in the light of Erebor.

Ori ridiculously wondered what he would look like under the sun, or starlight.

Even Nori was not staring with open mouthed shock at the sight of the three of them the way Ori was. It was shameful and he startled guiltily when the blond glanced over as they passed. His eyes were deep and aware and when he saw Ori gaping, he smirked, just an upcurl of his mouth, jingling the braids in his moustache.

“We’re going home,” Ori said, voice stiff.

“Alright,” Nori agreed once the procession was past and the frantic whispering started in the wake of Thorin and his nephews.

Ori cursed himself all the way back to the palace, for being so foolish to stare so openly. He did not start to feel himself again until he had the heavy stone low over his head, the door closed between him and anyone else. Nori left the book on the table and retreated.

Tossing his scarf on the back of a chair, Ori’s hands shook as he carefully unweaved the amethyst beads and purple thread from his hair. When he finally no longer looked like a prince he breathed a little easier.

Curiosity was not for princes.

He took the new book with him and despite it still being afternoon curled up in bed, focusing on the craftsmanship of the book more than the content, and desperately thinking only of that.

Thorin had returned to Erebor. He brought his nephews with him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title from Emily Dickinson XXXIII (Based off the 1924 complete poems, I believe)


	2. We Stumble Over Our Spines

“We’re home, mother,” Kíli called, as Thorin pushed the door open and Kíli darted in before his uncle could move one way or another.

“It is not home,” Dís said, leaning against the table and drying her hands off with a towel. “Not yet.”

Fíli waited until his uncle had the door propped open to enter, Thorin looking over his shoulder one more time at Erebor before letting the door close behind him. “This has always been our home more than the Iron Hills,” he pointed out, setting his bundle on the table.

“Until you had us leave it,” Dis pointed out and recognizing the fight brewing, Fíli hooked an arm around Kíli’s elbow, pulling him along.

“Come along,” he said, cheerfully. “We should put the furs on the beds. It looks like mother cleaned while we were gone.”

Kíli craned his neck around, considering the walls and floors. “The place almost looks new. She must have been busy. I wonder why she didn’t let us help.”

Wisely, Fíli chose to say nothing of the last time Kíli and he had helped to clean, or how angry Thorin had looked with dirty suds in his thick hair. “I am sure she had some reason,” he settled for finally. “I am just personally glad we managed to find such large apartment so close to the forges.” Even though it had been filthy and frankly he did not want to know anything about whatever dwarves had vacated it.

“You can be as thrilled about the forges all you want,” Kíli said, flinging himself backward on the bed and Fíli huffed, trying to push him off.

“Idiot, that’s where the furs are supposed to go.”

“But I personally,” Kíli continued, not budging an inch and only stretching his arms over his head and wiggling more toward the middle of the stone bed. “Am just glad we’re near the bars.”

His brother laughed, finally leaning over to push him all the way off. “I assume that means we’re going to go out playing tonight.”

“It’s a new town,” Kíli agreed happily, even as they could hear the rumble of Thorin getting angry. “They haven’t heard all our songs yet.”

“Nor our tricks,” Fíli added, head tilted toward the doorway, Dis’ voice rising.

“Think they’ll ever stop having that fight?” Kíli asked after a beat and Fíli sighed, draping the furs over the bed that was to be Kíli’s and arranging them before shoving the taller back toward it.

“No,” h e said before turning toward his own bed. There were only three sleeping chambers, but it was still larger than any of them had expected to find, and Fíli suspected Dwalin’s hand in that. “Mother still blames Thorin for Ferin’s death.”

Kíli sighed, flopping back down easily and curling up in the furs, only his eyes peeking out over his brother as Fíli fussed with his own. “It wasn’t really his fault though, was it? I mean, the orcs killed him.”

“And they would never have been on the road if not for Thorin,” Fíli parroted back. “And now he thinks he can just pack up all our lives again because of his own pride.”

“Ugh,” Kíli said and wrinkled his nose. “Please, the fact we can recreate the fight is sad enough without you actually doing it.”

They listened for another moment, the voices outside finally starting to ease. “It is sort of exciting though,” Kíli said and Fíli finally seemed pleased with the arrangement of the furs, sitting down on the edge of his bed. “A new place. New people.”

“New trouble,” Fíli added and Kíli only offered him an innocent grin.

“I can’t imagine what you are talking about, brother.”

-0-

“You should not stare so,” Nori said, directly into his ear and Ori startled guiltily.

“I am not,” he protested as golden hair kept catching his eye and holding it, the easy grin and laugh and lines of hardship in his shoulders holding Ori’s attention.

His eyes looked so long and Ori wanted to trace his brows with his fingertips and smooth them down to the lines of worry around his eyes.

Ori had never wanted to lean out and touch someone so much in his life.

“You are staring,” Nori said before pulling back, putting discrete distance between them again and Ori looked at the ground instead of insisting he was not. It was better to show than to claim. He just hoped that blond had not caught him staring again like the first time.

“You said there was something you wished for me to see,” Ori said instead, twitching his scarf tighter around his chin.

Nori grinned at him, weaving his way through the marketplace. “Well, you always like new things, yeah? And the caravan brought in some new shiny toys you might like.”

“I am too old for toys,” Ori protested and before he knew it his eyes had slide around again, to where Thorin’s two nephews stood near the well, talking brightly to a young dwarf who was in front of them to draw water.

“Not that kind of toy,” Nori laughed and caught where his gaze was again. “It’s funny, isn’t it, how four people can make a mountain feel so different.”

“You are imagining it,” Ori snapped.

“it is in the air, not just your wandering eyes,” Nori said, bumping their shoulders together and grinning but that did not ease the scowl on Ori’s face.

“I do not want it to be in the air,” he said. “I hear enough of the rumors of Thorin already. “There is no reason for them to have any effect.”

Except that the dark haired dwarf was mimicking playing a fiddle, and the blond was grinning, leaning over to adjust his imaginary posture and getting hit in the nose for his trouble. Ori knew their names were Fíli and Kíli because he had checked the registry of their line, but he did not know which was which.

“Well they brighten the place up a bit,” Nori said. “You know, like wildflowers.”

“Wildflowers?” Ori said, wrinkling his nose at his brother.

Nori shrugged, unrepentant. “Sure. They growl wild out in the fields but then they are pretty and bright enough when plucked out of their element and deposited.”

“This is why you are lucky you are not a poet,” Ori said and Nori laughed.

He adjusted Ori’s scarf from where it had slipped slightly. “You should really find one that stays on your head,” he said. “But, I hear they both play the fiddle and have taken to traveling around the taverns, playing their little hearts out in the evening.”

Ori swallowed and they were almost past the fountain, so it was becoming awkward to stare. “Why do you think that is information I wish to hear?” he asked, even though the image of blond hair draped across the dark wood of a violin and those fingers—which he realized guiltily he had never seen all that close—plucking at the strings on the long neck of the instrument made an odd sort of heat curl in his belly. “You’re being ridiculous, Nori.”

“Aye,” Nori agreed, arching a brow and Ori hoped nothing showed on his face. “I am the one being ridiculous.”

Before Ori could snarl at him to be quiet again there was a crash in front of them, one of the market carts upturning a shelf as someone ran past. Ori froze, Nori pulling him back slightly and scanning the area to make sure no one was advancing on them. “Come on,” he said, alert and wary.

Nori started to pull him back and away from where the shopkeeper was trying to gather their broken wares back up when that same flash of gold caught Ori’s eye and Thorin’s nephew appeared.

“Can I help?” he asked, eyes serious and even the shopkeeper looked somewhat taken aback. His voice was deeper than Ori had expected and he shivered to hear it, hoping Nori didn’t notice even with a hand still on his shoulder.

“They are just broken pots,” the shopkeeper said, watching him almost warily.

“Hey, Fíli!” a voice called behind them and the nephew that must have been Kíli appeared. “Don’t run off like that, you know mum would have a fit.” He carried a bucket mostly full of water.

“Sorry,” Fíli said and did not much look like he meant it at all. “I only wanted to make sure no help was needed.”

“Ugh,” Kíli said, rolling his eyes. “I need help. The water is heavy, come on.”

“Kíli,” Fíli said, exasperated and the shopkeeper in question hid a smile.

“It was kind of you to check, lad,” he said, and patted Fíli on the shoulder, who only seemed to smile benevolently while Ori winced from several feet away at the uninvited touch. “But there is not much I could ask as a favor.”

Nori suddenly moved back and Ori turned in time to see Dwalin approach, in his guard uniform but never the helmet most of the underlings of the guard wore. “What seems to be the problem?” he asked, seeing a crowd around a shop before registering anyone who was there.

“Some hooligans seemed to knock over my wares,” the shopkeeper explained and Dwalin turned abruptly at seeing Fíli and Kíli.

“Your uncle—” he started to thunder.

“It wasn’t us!” Kíli wailed before he could finish and Ori could not remember if he had ever heard anyone dare cut Dwalin off before he finished his sentence.

“I did not know he knew them,” he said under his breath and Nori tensed.

The shopkeeper quickly explained that it was certainly not them, and gave a brief report to Dwalin of who it probably was. Dwalin visibly relaxed at that explanation, turning back to Fíli and Kíli once he assured the shopkeeper he would do what he could to find the proper hooligan in question.

“I was coming to see you anyway,” Dwalin said. “Thorin said he would be finished at the forge around now.”

“Great,” Kíli chirped. “You can carry the water.”

“Kíli,” Fíli groaned, hefting the bucket in question himself. “Stop it.”

“You are quite old enough to carry your own water,” Dwalin agreed solemnly and as they turned to go, a buzz of conversation started, about Dwalin and Fíli’s apparently eagerness to help.

Scowling, Nori tugged Ori with him. “Come on,” he said, voice low and tight. “I said I had something to show you, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Ori said, turning to catch one more glimpse of blond hair. Fíli was the one that kept haunting his dreams, the one with such dark eyes. He was older by five years, Ori knew from the records and he could play the fiddle and so far that was all he knew.

That probably was for the best.

“You know,” he added. “I am not sure I have ever seen Dwalin relax like that.”

Nori’s scowl only increased and Ori almost missed a step. “No,” Nori said. “He does not usually relax like that, let alone in public.”

“Are you—” he started.

“I am not angry,” Nori said so quickly it proved him wrong. “There is nothing to be annoyed about.”

“They seem rather familiar with each other,” Ori said, unsure why he was continuing with Nori’s expression so thunderous. “I did not realize that is where Dwalin went when he left.”

“No one really did,” Nori said and Ori finally dropped his gaze and the topic, wondering why it bothered his brother and deciding that Nori liked to know things that other people did not, and being confronted with his own ignorance only irked him.

As they walked, he carefully did not think about the timbre of Fíli’s voice and he certainly did not repeat his name in his head. He was a prince and they had no interest in strangers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm at the point where if I don't post something I never will. *Tosses chapter and dashes away*
> 
> Title from Katrina, M.K


	3. The Stars Think You Need to Run

The only excuse Ori could give himself as he slipped out of the palace was that he could not sleep.

It sounded horribly shallow to his own mind, and he almost turned around as soon as he stepped out of the palace. Usually on the nights he could not find sleep, he wondered the long hallways of the palace or read in the library.

But his restless was worse than usual, so he carefully unbraided his hair, combing the kinks out of it before redoing it into a simple style. He hesitated a moment over the clasp before sliding the amethyst encrusted on the back lock of his hair. Only one gem would not make him stand out like the dozen or so he usually wore, and it had been a gift from his mother when he came of age so he was loathe to part from it.

Without Nori at his side, and clothed in the coarsest weave clothing he owned, he was not easy to recognize. He hoped that Nori never realized he knew exactly how to sneak out of the palace without his help or protection.

Wandering the streets under the mountain, the light that men found so ethereal dimmed, Ori found himself entranced by the streets at night, at the strangers who barely even glanced his way. Despite everyone’s pretentions at the market, Ori was as aware as Nori that most of the merchants recognized them together.

But here no one knew who Ori was as he moved from shadow to shadow, tilting his head back every once and a while to consider the carved stone above, the walkways twisting around and long staircases leading to different sections. He never felt so free before.

Ori only registered that he had turned his steps toward the apartment that Thorin occupied when he stood in front of it, turning his head from side to side and considering where his nephews might be, considering the hour and rumors of their fiddle playing. Considering his reaction to the idea several days before, he tried to convince himself to turn back and away, not press further.

Instead he approached the first bar he knew of in the area, and then the next one, until finally he had taken the stairs down to the next level, an area that he rarely entered and certainly never by himself. Luckily, the second tavern he approached had the doors thrown up, golden light spilling out and the sounds of music coming from inside.

Sliding inside, he leaned against the wall by the door and stared because there was no one to tell him not to.

Fíli and Kíli stood with their shoulders touching, occasionally looking over at each other as they played, a small cluster of dwarves standing nearby, the rest of the patrons clearly only pretending not to pay attention to their music. The number was jaunty, going up and down as if a leave flying high and low in the wind.

Any half formed thoughts about how Fíli would look playing a fiddle did not live up to the reality of it and one of Ori’s hands came up to twist in the place where his scarf crossed over his chest. He could not quite figure out why his breath came so short, but the image made his fingers ache. He wanted to reach out, tangle his fingers up in where Fíli’s were pressed against the strings or holding the bow.

When the song ended, applause erupted from around the room, even though who were pretending not to pay attention. Kíli grinned and did a half bow, holding the bow and violin out in opposite hands as Fíli took a long pull of the mug set beside him. “Now play us a sad song!” someone called from the corner.  

Kíli pulled a face, shaking his head with a laugh. “I don’t play sad songs,” he yelled back and Fíli had his bow up already, the first note ringing out. “Lucky for you, that’s why there’s two of us.”

“Yes, that’s the reason,” Fíli laughed, throwing his head back before readjusting his chin as he picked out the first few notes before truly throwing himself into the song. Ori recognized it by the third bar, a song that Balin had made him sing as a child, scolding him when he got the notes totally wrong, though he had never any difficulty with the words.

It was about exile and long journeys, about loss along the way and leaving people behind. Ori wanted to be sick, because the reality was too immediate for Fíli to be playing such a song. Ori knew as well as most that Ferin had died on the road, and Fíli and Kíli’s father only a few years ago in a skirmish to the North.

By the time he knew the song was nearing an end, he wanted to run. Settling the bow on the last note, Fíli looked up, eyes dark under his brows and caught Ori’s from across the room.

Ori’s breath left him all at once as Fíli’s eyes widened and he seemed to lean forward slightly, recognition kindled in his eyes. So Ori turned and slid out of the tavern, quite certain that his late night jaunt meant he would never sleep again.

He had only taken a few steps when another dwarf stepped in front of him, drawing him up short. “Excuse me,” he said, not looking up but to the side, fully expecting the other to move.

“It’s not often the prince makes his way down here,” the dwarf, who was almost as tall as Dwalin and with his arms crossed over his chest, said. Ori froze before his eyes snapped up.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, throat dry. There was a reason he so rarely left the palace without Nori after all. Most dwarves in Erebor were loyal, and trusted in their king, but it only took one discontent with last season’s crops or the taxes to cause harm.

“Don’t give me that,” the dwarf said, and Ori could see where another dwarf stood, backing the first one up. The dwarf in front of him darted his hand out, grabbing Ori’s chin and forcing his head back, the scarf sliding off his hair. “It is not so hard to recognize you. I’ve seen you before, with your father. You certainly look prettier when it’s not so light.”

Ori tried to jerk back and when that did not he brought a hand back to slap the dwarf, which startled him enough to release Ori’s chin. Stumbling back, Ori turned to run up the stairs only to have his arm caught by the dwarf and he was yanked back around. “Let me go!”

“You should not have done that,” the dwarf said, voice low.

“You should never have touched me,” Ori said, tilting his chin back and his tone cold.

The dwarf laughed, his friend coming up on the other side. “There’s no one here,” he pointed out. “You’re the one who—”

“Hey now,” a new voice called back behind them and Ori craned his head over his shoulder to see who the newcomer was, though he felt his stomach contract just to hear the voice. Yet he was still surprised to see Fíli standing there, arms crossed over his chest and eyes narrowed. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“This isn’t your business,” the dwarf said, hand still bruisingly tight on Ori’s arm, as he tried to yank it away.

“Yeah?” Fíli asked, and Ori could see him shift slightly so that he was poised to spring back or forward. The casualness of his preparation to face an attack made his chest flutter. “I still think you should let him go.”

“You must be as mad as your uncle,” the dwarf snapped and Fíli tilted his head to the side slightly with a faint frown, as if he truly wanted to figure out exactly what the other meant, or why he would speak such words.

“This really isn’t your business,” Ori found himself saying and all three dwarves looked at him in surprise. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

The dwarf holding him was about to say something when Fíli burst out laughing. “Are you real?” he asked, meeting Ori’s eyes again. Before Ori could respond, the other dwarf aimed his fist for Fíli’s face. He ducked down easily, jamming his shoulder back up into the dwarf’s chest and flipped him over.

The first dwarf that still held Ori’s arm finally released him, stalking toward Fíli who only smirked and tilted his head to the side. “Oh, do you want to have a go too?”

Ori thought he should leave, head up the staircase and run all the way back to the palace and never leave at night again. Instead he stayed, watching the way Fíli danced away from his attacker, light on his feet and clearly more amused than worried. That attitude got him kicked in the stomach at one point but he managed to knock the dwarf’s feet out from under him, landing him flat on his back.

“Now,” he said, leaning over the other and clearly considering stepping on him. “What have we learned about picking unfair fights?”

“You should mind your own business,” the dwarf said and spat at him.

Pulling his head back in distaste, Fíli rubbed the back of his hand over his cheek. “Come on,” he said instead, reaching out and grabbing Ori’s hand and pulling him with him, ignoring the way Ori’s eyes widened and he tried to pull back at the touch.

“I have no obligation to go anywhere with you,” he said, but his feet moved anyway, and his fingers curled around Fíli’s palm, feeling the calluses and he rubbed his palm along them to get a better idea of where they were.

“No,” Fíli agreed and it was easy enough. “But there’s no reason for you to stay there anyway.”

“It was not your business,” Ori said, fury low in his belly and he was distracted between focusing on that and the feel of Fíli’s hand against his. “I did not need you to save me.”

Fíli finally slowed to a stop and looked over his shoulder at him. “It is not an insult to you,” he said, and he looked caught between considering and smiling. “Needing help sometimes does not make you weak.”

Ori yanked his hand back and Fíli blinked at him. “I don’t need help from you,” he snapped and Fíli’s expression closed off slightly.

Rolling his shoulders back, Fíli stretched his hands behind his head, folding them there. “You’re not about to start anything about my family are you?” he asked and his eyes were dark under the torches that still burned.

“No,” Ori said and twisted his hands up underneath his scarf. “No, I am not. But I am not helpless.”

“Did I ever say you were?” Fíli asked.

“Your actions implied it,” Ori muttered, ducking his chin under the scarf.

He tried not to look when Fíli grinned at him. “I would help anyone I saw being picked up by two larger dwarves then themselves,” he said. “It is not actually personal.”

“Then why were you there?” Ori asked. “Did you follow me?”

Fíli shuffled his head and Ori could not help the way he found it adorable, trying to hide his smile in his scarf. “Well,” Fíli started. “It was the only time I’ve seen you without usual companion,” and he waved a hand over his head to indicate Nori’s hair. “It seemed like a chance I should not miss.”

“You,” Ori started and blushed. “What…”

“You watch me a lot,” Fíli said, like it was not surprising and like he deserved it. It made Ori’s stomach clench. “It’s not that hard to notice.”

“I’m not watching you,” Ori snapped and Fíli only smiled. “I do not need your help and I have never watched you in my life.” He drew his spine up and there was a deep chill in his voice but Fíli looked unimpressed, grabbing his hand again when he started to turn away.  “Do not touch me—” Ori started, the touch sending a bolt of panic through him.

“At least tell me your name,” Fíli said, and Ori tried to look away.

“Ri,” he said finally.

“Ri?” Fíli repeated. “Just Ri?” When Ori nodded he smiled. “That sounds a lot like the prince’s name, something—”

“Ori,” he said too quickly. “His name is Ori.”

“Ori,” Fíli repeated, dropping his hand and Ori tried not to shiver at the sound of his name. “Your name sounds a lot like his.”

“Maybe I was named after him,” Ori said, but his throat felt dry again.

“Your family must respect his family a lot then,” Fíli said and Ori’s nostrils flared out in anger before he carefully pushed that down. “That was not meant as an insult,” Fíli added, having apparently noticed.

“I should get home,” Ori said, looking away.

“I’ll walk you there,” Fíli said and Ori turned a glare back at him.

When Fíli finally seemed to shift back, Ori dropped his gaze. “I am capable of taking care of myself,” he repeated.

“You are,” Fíli agreed and Ori resented the fact it sounded too much like he was agreeing to humor him. “But I would at least like to see you back to where you are less likely to run into folk like that.”

“Alright,” Ori agreed finally. “But you are not holding my hand again.”

The corners of Fíli’s mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile. “You sure?” he said and it sounded teasing.

“Yes,” Ori snapped and turned on his heel. Fíli followed him anyway.

For a while they walked in silence, Ori fiddling with his scarf and trying not to stare at Fíli any more than he already had. “Do you like it in Erebor then?” he asked and Fíli glanced over.

“I wondered why you did not ask my name,” he said, the left corner of his mouth twitching up. “I suppose almost everyone knows who we are.”

“You and your brother together make it more obvious,” Ori said. “And your uncle.”

Fíli’s laugh was low. “I suppose when you put it that way. So what about the dwarf you’re always with? Is he your brother too?”

“Yes,” Ori said, not admitting they were half brothers.

“Do you have just the one?” Fíli asked and Ori looked over, trying to understand how he came to the point of making small talk with Thorin’s nephew.

“I have two,” he said, looking back at the ground as they walked. It was a habit his father had long since despaired of breaking him of. “They are both older.”

Fíli whistled and grinned. “I could not speak from experience, but knowing the way I treat my own younger brother, I can imagine how fun that is.”

“They are not so bad,” Ori said to the ground. He stopped at the top of the staircase and looked around. “You do not have to come any further. It is perfectly respectable here.”

As Fíli looked around, Ori tried not to pay attention to the careful and wary way he assessed the area before nodding. He turned back to Ori, and smiled again, making Ori’s stomach clench. Stepping forward, Fíli touched his hand again, making Ori tense as he lifted it to touch his mouth to the back of it. “Good night then, Ri,” he said, “I hope to see you again soon.”

Ori turned abruptly, completing forgetting to say good night with the memory of the scrap of Fíli’s beard, the beads in his moustache knocking against the back of his hand and the dry rasp of his lips. He was shaking by the time he reached the palace, running to his chambers and closing the heavy door behind him.

Leaning against it, he pulled the scarf off, tossing it toward the table blindly. He scrubbed a hand over his face and tried to focus on his routine to prepare for bed, carefully combing out his hair and folding his clothing as he undressed.

When he finally curled up under the furs all he could think of was Fíli’s laugh and the graceful wariness of his movements and the way his eyes had met Ori’s when he leaned down to kiss his hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I never promised long chapters...
> 
> I've decided I want to use poetry for the chapter titles. I will probably regret this in the times to come.
> 
> This line from Your Latest Horoscope by Clementine von Radics


	4. i would like to be loved for such simple attainments

When Ori finally dragged himself out of the furs in the morning his eyes felt sandy and he wanted to go back to sleep. Instead he pulled on a pair of knit fingerless mittens Dori had made for him a long time ago that he rarely wore, elegant and subtle as they were.

He feared that if he did not wear them he would keep touching the back of his hand in court. As his father sat on the throne, he gave his son a look before only offering him a greeting and turning the rest of his attention to court business. Ori tried his hardest to focus, to pay attention to soft voice of his father without sketching or writing. He feared what he might draw so he did not dare.

By the time he returned to his own chambers for lunch, he was only tired, and convinced he would never sneak out at night again. It was not as safe as he had hoped, and there was no reason to see Fíli again.

It took him only a cup of tea to realize his new determination had already left him. With a sigh, he dropped his head down on his folded arms and was still sitting like that when Dori found him.

“Whatever has gotten you into such a mood?” Dori asked, voice warm in amusement and Ori’s head snapped up, smile blooming across his face.

“Dori,” he said, leaping out of his seat to wrap hold Dori’s hands in his and grinning. “It is so good to see you.”

Dori laughed, and untangled his hands after giving Ori’s a squeeze back, noticing the mits he wore. “It has not been a week,” he said, taking a seat across from where Ori sat, Ori sliding back into his own seat.

“I know,” he said, “But I still always miss you when the Guild business becomes so demanding.” Once every six months it seemed that the Guilds became embroiled in another dispute over taxes and apprentices and compensation.

Once, when he had been younger, Ori told Dori there was no reason for him to keep working. Dori’s face had gone very still and quiet while Ori babbled about buying out his contract from the Guild and that he would never have to worry for money again. Finally, when he had talked himself out, Dori had shaken his head and told him that he should never dare again make such plans. He explained that a dwarf with no work was nothing and that he would be useless only as a palace decoration.

Ori had protested quietly that he wanted his brother with him, and Dori had nodded, promising he would be but he would take no such treatment from Ori. So Ori had hesitantly offered to make Dori Guildmaster at the least and had been shot down in just as few words as before.

Dori was notoriously good at making people understand his meaning in very few words.

“The Guild business is hardly so bad as that,” Dori said, primly adjusting the tray so it was equidistant from both of them before pouring his own cup of tea and Ori smiled because Dori cared for manners, whereas Nori would lean across the small table and eat whatever was on Ori’s plate already.

“Well,” Ori admitted. “I heard of no blood this time.”

Dori huffed. “See? Things have been sedate even.”

Ori hummed, sipping his second cup of tea and wishing it had more punch than the herbal blend that had been sent up with the rest of his lunch. “I believe your definition of sedate has become quite warped.”

“Perhaps,” Dori agreed and set the cup of tea down, carefully turning the handle. “And how have you been? You look tired.”

“I did not sleep well,” Ori admitted and Dori’s brow creased.

“Have you spoken to the—”

Ori rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “There is no need to go to the healers again. I take the tea they recommend,” he said, lifting the cup slightly. “Before I go to bed especially. I do the exercises they suggest and I follow all their other suggestions. I just did not sleep last night.” His fingers twitched, almost going to the back of his hand and he thought about Fíli’s laugh, his brash grin. But he certainly had no intention of telling Dori the reason he had not slept the night before. Better for him to think it had only been a bad night out of many.

He thought he preferred having an actual reason to be tired.

“Are you well otherwise?” Dori asked, obviously concerned and Ori nodded quickly.

“I could not be better,” he said brightly, and hoped that Nori and Dori were fighting again, and Nori would have no reason to tell Dori how often they had been to market, and who exactly Ori stared at. “Will you be at dinner tonight, at the least?”

“Yes,” Dori agreed easily and they slipped into conversation about the Guild and the current Court issues, who was angry at whom and which cases the King was currently considering.

-0-

“You’re not supposed to run off without me,” Kíli said again, perhaps the tenth time he had told Fíli since the night before.

“I hardly ran off,” Fíli said, looking around the market place and seeing no wide eyes looking back at him.

“You ran off,” Kíli declared. “There is no other way to describe you handing me your fiddle and heading for the door and not coming back. For ages.”

“Now you are exaggerating,” Fíli said, rolling his eyes. “It was hardly ages. A candle would not have burned down in the time I was away.”

Kíli flashed a grin at the pair of other young dwarves that passed them before turning back to his brother. “Which still does not tell me exactly what was so important you had to run off in that exact moment?”

“I saw someone,” Fíli said finally and Kíli tilted a brow up at him.

“Was it that lad that keeps staring at you and looking away when either of us notice him,” he asked in a teasing tone and Fíli’s heavy silence answered the question. “Really? I never thought you would catch him. Did you at least get to talk to you?”

“Yes,” Fíli said, and felt himself start to preen slightly. “I even managed to drive off some dwarves that were giving him a fuss.” He paused, frowning slightly. “Not that he seemed horribly grateful for that.”

There was a moment of silence before Kíli laughed, the sound bright as it burst out of him. “He was not grateful? To have such a kind warrior protecting him? I would punch you myself if you tried that on me.”

“Except I would never save you,” Fíli returned. “I would let them hit you as much as they wanted instead.” Kíli jammed his shoulder into Fíli’s shoulder and he grinned as he kept walking. “You never look like you need protecting anyway.”

“Was that other dwarf with him?” Kíli asked. “The one with the tall hair that always seems to be around? Because he looks a bit scary.”

“No,” Fíli said, as they reached the forge Thorin was trying to refit into a working business again. “Uncle, we are here!”

“Good,” Thorin said, emerging from the back covered in soot and trying to rub some of it off with a towel already too dirty. “Please tell me you brought a shovel,” and Kíli proudly held it up.

“I am still surprised at the state of this place,” he said, handing the shovel to his uncle. “It is filthy in here.”

“No other forges were for sale,” Thorin said, rolling his shoulders to stretch them out. “We are just lucky that one actually was.”

Fíli snorted and Thorin turned dark eyes to him. “Lucky? You mean Dwalin did not tell you that a forge the Guild itself had no interest in had opened up?”

“I have worked with less,” Thorin said and Fíli smiled faintly. “But I have worked my way up before. The question is what you two intend to do.”

“Do?” Kíli asked, looking over at him in pretend shock and Thorin looked exasperated and fond.

“We are not in the Iron Hills anymore,” Thorin said, crossing his arms over his chest, inadvertently reminding them both how much wider he was in the shoulders. “You are both old enough to join Guilds now and it is necessary to be considered respectable.”

Kíli pulled a face and Fíli stilled. “Now?” Fíli asked, watching his uncle closely. “You want us to make that decision right now?”

“No,” Thorin said, and shook his head. “But it is a process that takes time and it will not be easy. Not everyone gets into a guild after all,” he added and something in his eyes were sharp.

Kíli scowled but they both nodded obediently. “It’s too bad really you have no skills,” Fíli teased, bumping shoulders with Kíli when Thorin looked back toward the forge.

“Hey, just because you can hit things really well—”

“That’s a marketable skill,” Fíli said and Kíli rolled his eyes. “Maybe you could join the wax workers guild and make candles…”

“You’re not cute,” Kíli drawled and Fíli only laughed. “Even if you get cute young dwarves staring at you at all hours, being ungrateful like.”

Fíli abruptly stopped laughing, giving his brother a dark look as Thorin turned back around.

“And what is this?” he asked, one dark eyebrow going up and Fíli’s look took on a murderous air as Kíli breezed past him deeper into the forge.

“Nothing,” Fíli said, shuffling his feet.

Thorin watched him for a moment, bending down to fiddle with leather straps he had tied around his tools to store them, which meant he was not looking at Fíli. “We have only reached Erebor. Surely you are not already thinking of romance.”

Fíli choked on air, shaking his head hard enough several of the heavy silver beads clicked. “Mahal’s beard, no. You would think I need to worry about getting into a Guild first.” Though he thought about the way the other boy’s cheekbones had colored looking at him, the furious line of his mouth when Fíli offered to walk him home and felt warmth uncurl in his chest.

  Still fiddling with the straps, Thorin shrugged slightly. “Yes, one would think.” He paused, tapping his fingers on the wood and metal. “Though, it may not be so bad for you, to have friends here.”

“Friends,” Fíli repeated. “Yeah, I am already making plenty of those.” Or close enough, considering the dwarves that seemed to have started gathering around the brothers at night.

“But eventually,” Thorin said, lifting his head but looking to the side rather than at his nephew. “If you were so inclined, it would be good for you, if there was someone…”

Fíli flushed, shoulders tensing in embarrassment. “Uncle, please, Kíli is only being a pest.”

They looked at each other for an uncomfortable moment. “I only wanted to say that it might be a bad thing,” Thorin said, voice stilted.

“Thank you, uncle,” Fíli managed and Thorin nodded, handing him back the shovel Kíli had carried.

“Now then,” he said and Fíli groaned. “I believe the back needs to be cleared out still.”

-0-

Ori had almost convinced himself he would never sneak out of the palace again when he found himself already dressed for it and standing at the doorway several days later. He stood there, twisting his fingers for several moments before sliding out and back toward the stairs he had taken the first time.

Except as he passed the apartments Thorin and his family had taken, he came to a stop. Fíli sat outside the door, his elbows on his knees and smoking a pipe as he looked out over the market square that was mostly silent at night. When Fíli spotted Ori, his mouth twisted into a slow smile and Ori’s stomach flipped over, drawn to where he sat.

“Would you like to walk with me?” he asked and Fíli was already pushing himself to his feet with that slow smile.

“I am glad you came back,” he said and Ori tried to huff.

“I never actually left,” he muttered and Fíli just kept smiling at him. “I mean, the market, yes, but not—” He clicked his mouth shut.

“Have you ever been to the fountain district at night?” Fíli asked instead of commenting.

“No,” Ori admitted, hiding his hands up in his scarf so he would not be tempted to reach out for Fíli’s.

“Come on then,” Fíli said, taking his hand anyway, finding it somewhere under the wool of the scarf and pulling him along, Ori twining their fingers and pressing their palms together, cataloging the calluses that Fíli had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Superbly Situated by Robert Hershon
> 
> This chapter brought to you by a week long headache.


	5. And we shall stand in the sun with a will

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY DOES EVERYONE REMEMBER THIS STORY?
> 
> BECAUSE I THINK ABOUT IT A LOT.
> 
> ~~sorry for being uh like 8 months late.~~

“You look exhausted,” Dori said, looking at Ori over his tea cup. “Have you still not been sleeping?”

Ori shrugged, a delicate motion as he sipped from his own cup. “You know, Dori, that I rarely sleep well.”

“This looks worse than usual,” Dori said, eyes narrowing. “You barely look awake.”

“It has been a stressful time,” Ori said. “I simply am not sleeping well, though I admit it is worse than usual, as you said.”

Except it was not for the same reasons at all. Instead of lying in bed and staring at his ceiling, counting the hours away in his own head, he was sneaking out of the palace as soon as he dared and meeting Fili. After the first few nights, Fíli laughing dubbed a lamppost at one of the staircases theirs and they met there the nights both could slip away.

Ori was seeing more of Erebor then he ever had before, trailing behind Fíli and watching the dim night time lights glint off his gold hair. They were discovering the place together it seemed, and Fíli was determined to know as much of it as possible.

The night before they had sat on a ledge, looking down at the walkway below, few people moving in the night. “I have heard so many stories of this place,” Fíli said, quietly and Ori had leaned closer as if to listen better and not to soak in more of his warmth. “Mother, uncle, even Dwalin sometimes, when he came to see us. They grew up here, and they loved it so. I always wanted to see it, but now that I’m here, it’s so big, so much. I feel like I have a lot to catch up on, to love it as much as they do.”

“And do you love it?” Ori asked, and Fíli’s eyes caught the light as he turned.

“I’m working on it,” he admitted. “People stare at us more. They judge us more. I can see uncle only growing angrier. I finally understand why he left.” Fíli paused and lifted Ori’s hand, squeezing it. “But there are things here worth loving too.”

“Things?” Ori asked, feeling breathless as his stomach jolted.

“It’s very beautiful,” Fíli said. “There are some very kind people.”

“No beautiful people?” Ori found himself asking and wanted to slink away the instant the daring words were out of his mouth.

“Oh, there are some very beautiful people,” Fíli rumbled and Ori felt like he could hear the sound all the way up his arm. He drew his hand back a shade too quickly, hoping the darkness hid his bush. Fíli seemed to hesitate, tilting forward before he straightened back up and they both did not look at each other.

Fíli always insisted on walking him back to the lamppost, and that night he had hesitated again. “Ri,” he started and then stopped, shaking his head.

“What?” Ori asked, turning back around and had definitely blushed when Fíli took his hand again, pressing his mouth to the back of it.

“Have a good night,” he murmured, the braids of his moustache brushing along the back of Ori’s hand before he let go and turned away, taking the stairs back down to the market district two at a time. Ori stared after him, certain that had not been what Fíli’s original plan was.

So he had barely slept at all the night before.

He wished now that such an encounter had not happened the night before his early luncheon with Dori. Dori who fret more than Nori, and had sharp eyes for any ill concealed in Ori’s heart.

“Are you certain you will be well?” Dori asked.

“In time,” Ori said. “It should be fine within days. You caught me on a bad week is all.”

“I worry for you,” Dori said. “You are the only prince and—”

“I fulfill my duties fine,” Ori snapped, the flash of anger that Dori did not deserve flaring in his chest and almost choking him for a moment.

Dori stared at him, setting the tea cup down gently and Ori looked away. “I know,” he said. “You are very dedicated. That may be part of the problem. You cannot push yourself too hard.”

“Please do not treat me as if I am delicate,” Ori said, looking down and he heard Dori sigh.

“No,” Dori said. “I would not.” They ate in silence for a moment. “I wonder though, you seem to have been under more stress since Thorin returned to Erebor.”

Ori shifted the cup around for a moment. “Perhaps,” he agreed finally.

“They are not threat to you,” Dori said, full of heat. “They would never be—that family. No one would honestly follow them, not even Thorin.”

“No?” Ori asked and he did not have to look up to know the look Dori was giving him. “You are right, of course. I simply cannot help but compare myself, and find myself wanting.”

“Anyone who would deny your hard work or dedication to this kingdom for a man who left in a rage would be as mad as Thorin’s grandfather,” Dori declared and Ori felt something like shame curl in his stomach. He opened his mouth but Dori kept speaking. “And you’ll be able to judge that for yourself tonight.”

“Tonight?” Ori asked.

“They are coming to dinner with the family,” Dori said. “Your father did not tell you yet?”

And Ori dropped the cup, shattering the fine workmanship.

-0-

Fíli walked through the kitchen, heading for the pantry before he registered his brother sitting at the table and reading. Backtracking, he stopped and stared.

“What?” Kíli asked, looking up and clutching the book to his chest as if it might hide it from Fíli.

“What are you doing?” Fíli asked, crossing his arms and arching his brows.

“Reading,” Kíli said, defensively.

“Why are you reading on ancient Khuzdul?” Fíli asked. “That’s not particularly a topic  you’ve been interesting in before. Too scholarly, isn’t it?”

“Ha ha, brother,” Kíli said dryly.

“That’s not an answer,” Fíli pointed out, finally finishing his former path and fetching a scarce meal for breakfast. He had been sore pressed to get out of bed that day, and had lain in far later than normal. “Have you seen mother and uncle yet together? I find it odd they were not demanding me up quite a while ago.”

“Actually, I haven’t,” Kíli said, holding the book open on the table again now that Fíli had moved on to another topic. “I can’t recall where they went out last night, but from what I can tell, they did not come home at all.”

“At all?” Fíli asked in some alarm.

“Please,” Kíli said. “This is Erebor, not some encampment were orcs could get them. I’m sure they’re fine.”

“They went out with Dwalin, I thought,” Fíli said and the brothers stared at each other.

“No,” Kíli said first.

“I’ll go see if I can find them,” Fíli said, pushing himself to his feet and stopping when a knock came at the door. He and Kíli looked at each other for a moment.

“I’m not getting it,” Kíli said, shoving his nose back in his book and Fíli rolled his eyes before going to the front hallway. Yanking the door open, he fully expected to see Dis and Thorin on the other side instead of the young dwarf in royal colors and wearing a curious expression on his face.

“Yes?” Fíli asked warily, not liking the way the courier was staring at him like he was a commodity.

“Is Thorin or the Lady Dis here?”

“They are out,” Fíli said, leaning an arm against the door to block the dwarf’s curious gaze. “Can I help you?”

“Are you Fíli then?” the dwarf asked, and the poor thing was practically quivering in excitement.

“Yes,” Fíli said slowly. “Now, what can I do for you?” Kíli had finally wandered out of the kitchen, book tucked under his arm.

The dwarf had to step back, clearing his throat and squaring his shoulders. “The King and Prince have extended an invitation to Thorin, the Lady Dis, and her two sons to come to dinner.” Fíli’s eyes slowly widened. “Tonight, at the fifth bell.”

“Tonight,” Fíli repeated and he nodded quickly. Fíli cleared his throat. “Well then. Please thank the king for his invitation.”

“And the prince,” the courier added, and Fili flushed to have gotten the etiquette wrong already. “You must also give an answer.”

Fíli cleared his throat again. “And of course let the king, and the prince, know we shall be there.”

The dwarf in front of him beamed, cutting a quick bow before he practically danced away, Fíli scowling after him.

“Well then,” Kíli said, as Fíli closed the door. “I guess that really means you do have to go and find Thorin and Dis.”

-0-

Fíli watched one of the guards open the door to the cell where the miscreants from the night before were usually thrown. He had come to the guard station first, hoping Dwalin would be there and might guide him to where his mother and uncle had gone. Instead, it turned out to be even more fortuitous.

“This,” he said and Dis stepped out, smoothing her clothes down and glaring at the guard, Thorin looking slightly less better for wear behind her. “Is the best day of my life.”

Thorin glared at him. “And why is that?”

“Because you are the two who got into a  drunken bar brawl last night, and got thrown into prison for the night to cool down, while I, the responsible adult came and paid the guards to let you out this morning.”

Both of them were glaring at him now and he simply beamed in response.

“Please be less chipper about life in general,” Dis said finally, leading the way out, Fíli falling in beside Thorin. “My head can hardly handle it.”

“Do I even want to ask how much the both of you drank?” Fíli asked, still grinning and Thorin grunted. “I’m surprised Dwalin was no in there with you.”

“He was,” Thorin rumbled, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Someone from the palace came and got him out earlier, snipping about duties and responsibilities and being a proper example.”

Fíli just arched a brow at him and Thorin grunted again. “You have gotten into far more trouble,” he said.

“Yes, but I’m not supposed to be the responsible one here,” Fíli said.

“We will never hear the end of this, will we?” Dis groaned from where she was in front of them.

“No,” Fíli chirped. “What even happened to cause this?”

Thorin and Dis exchanged a look and Fíli sighed. “Actually,” he said. “You don’t even have to tell me, I can guess. It’s wonderful timing too, as the king invited us to dinner at the fifth bell. Sorry,” he said before either of them could say anything. “The king _and the prince_.” He imbued the title with as much mocking as he could, considering the courier’s response to him forgetting that morning.

“The king invited us to dinner?” Dis said. “Tonight? And you’re only telling us now?”

“I only found you now,” Fíli replied. “It is your fault for being gone this morning when the courier came.” He paused again, looking between them. “Must we go?”

“Of course we must go,” Thorin said. “He is the king, and family. It would be well for them to think kindly of us, and the other way as well.”

“In other words, be nice to the prince?” Fíli asked, wryly.

“That is not a bad life philosophy to have in general,” Dis admonished him. “Besides, why would you not?”

Fíli shrugged. “He sounds rather dull, is all. Very duty bound, which, I suppose, is respectable, but from what is told of him he is most quiet, and would rather be with his books then study with a sword. While I understand the administrative side of ruling, that hardly seems like strong king material. And it sounds dull.”

“You’ve said dull twice now,” Thorin said, pushing the door to their apartments open. “I am sure you shall find something worth talking about.”

“I am sure,” Fíli said, sounding like he believed exactly the opposite of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Kahlil Gibran, “The Madman”


	6. It had been waiting for you to bare your teeth and swallow me whole

Fíli tried not to fidget as Dis combed out his hair. Since they had returned home, Kíli had been laughing on and off as he remembered where his brother finally found their mother and uncle. Now he was also forced to sit still while Thorin, not known for his own braids, worked on his hair.

“I still don’t understand the fuss,” Kíli muttered, surly again.

“We are going to eat with the king, at the royal palace,” Dis said. “You must be presentable.” Her voice was sure, but Fíli could feel the occasional tremor in her fingers, that revealed a quiet anger.

“I am presentable,” Kíli whined.

“Not in court you wouldn’t be,” Dis said. She had oiled her hair after bathing earlier, twisting it up into a complicated knot with several diamond pins. Even Thorin had made more of an effort, and Fíli had never seen the sapphire clip in his hair before. “Hold still,” Dis added when Thorin finally declared Kíli’s hair as finished as it could be and he bounced up.

“Are you not finished with mine yet?” he asked and she shook her head, batting his shoulder.

“No. You are the elder, and also less likely to lose all your braids before the end of the night.” She finished pulling one of the long ones back, clasping several at the back.

“Rubies?” Fíli asked, fingers brushing the stones set into the clasp.

“Yes,” Dis said and her voice was fainter than usual. “They suit your coloring. It was your father’s.”

Fíli paused before tilting his head back, making his mother click her tongue at him. “Wouldn’t it be easier to give it to Kíli?” he asked, because Kíli and Thorin had already moved out of the room, blue in both their hair. Sometimes his mother looked at him with such sorrow in her eyes and he knew now that she saw his father too clearly in him.

“Perhaps,” Dis said. “The jewels he wears tonight came from Frerin, which suits his coloring more. You look like your father.” She brushed her fingers over Fíli’s hair again. “You will be careful tonight, won’t you?”

“What do I have to be careful of?” Fíli asked as Kíli came bounding back in.

“Come on,” he said. “Mahal, Fee, don’t take so long. It’s past the fourth bell already.”

Dis ran a hand over Fíli’s hair again before she nodded and stepped back. “Alright,” she said. “We’re all as ready as we’re like to be, I suppose.”

Kíli rolled his eyes, already swinging out the door, and falling into step with Fíli behind Thorin and Dis. “Nice topaz,” Fíli teased, though he found himself looking at the long strand of jewels in light of it once belonging to the uncle he had barely ever known.

“Shut it,” Kíli said. “I look like the lighter version of Thorin.”

“Which,” Fíli said, already ducking the swing he was sure was coming. “You have been trying to _be_.”

He only stopped chuckling when they reached the entrance to the royal palace. He barely even needed Thorin’s glare to prompt his silence as he craned his neck back to stare at the large stone façade, taking up one side of the square. “That,” Kíli started and fell silent, shaking his head. But as they approached, he leaned against Fíli’s side. “I liked Dain’s more,” he murmured.

“That’s because there were less centuries of pretension to seek into the stones,” Fíli whispered back and they both snapped their mouths shut when Thorin glared at them again.

Fíli barely paid attention as they were led inside, trying to listen to the formal words Thorin and Dis were saying to the various guards that they passed but he kept getting distracted by the stone around them, crafted and hewn for centuries to be both intimidating and beautiful. It took Kíli elbowing him for him to even focus on Thorin, who somehow had turned into another dwarf when they passed through the palace. His eyes were brittle and his shoulders were squared back, almost compensating. He was a hurt creature looking at the trap that had caught him in the past.

“I don’t like it here,” Kíli whispered, and Fíli couldn’t agree more.

They finally were ushered through enough of the palace to reach the inner sanctum where the royal family lived in semi-privacy. Fíli had never seen the king before, and his first impression was not terribly favorable. He was older than Fíli had really expected, and his smile was friendly, his robes so un-functional Fíli wondered how he moved around the palace.

Listening to Thorin and Dis and the king exchange more formal greetings before they could actually sit down and have dinner, Fíli’s eyes slid over to where the prince was standing a little behind the king. He was still vaguely wondering if the prince would look as dull as his reputation when he noticed his eyes. Fíli frowned, because the prince looked—and Fíli froze, because the prince had slid his eyes away and refused to look at him but Fíli knew him anyway.

“Is,” Kíli whispered beside him, ducking his head down so it wouldn’t be obvious to anyone but Fíli.

“Shut up,” Fíli replied instantly and he didn’t bother to look away from the prince.

-0-

His only consolation through dinner was that Fíli preformed the proper greeting perfectly, even though he thought it was obvious to the prince—Ori, he corrected himself, so hideously and obviously close to Ri that he wanted to hit himself—that he was glaring at him as he bowed.

“My other brothers are unable to join us,” Ori said, his hands hidden in his sleeves and Fíli tried to school his expression back into something bland. “But hopefully some other night.”

Thorin made the proper agreements and they all sat down.

The food placed in front of them was so rich, Fíli actually found he had difficulty eating much of it, used to much sparser fare which sat lighter in his stomach. Dain was also their cousin, and he had also eaten with them but even his table was not this decadent. Fíli tried not to notice that Ori also picked at his food, eating almost as little as Fíli was.

Kíli at least dived into the food, obviously relishing each dish set in front of him.

When the food was finally cleared away, Fíli realized it was not over yet as the king motioned them all into a side room for drinks and desert and Fíli wanted to scream and run away because somehow he found himself walking beside Ori.

It only got worse in that somehow Thorin and the king had conspired to shuffle the two of them off to the side of the room, on something like a small balcony overlooking the market below the palace. Fíli had only been able to stare after his uncle in shock and anger, considering Thorin’s quiet reminder to find something to talk about.

Ori opened his mouth and Fíli beat him to it. “Why did you lie?”

“Are you serious?” Ori asked instead of answering.

“Yeah,” Fíli said, and he was finally able to voice his hurt. “I am serious.” The young dwarf in front of him gave him vertigo because on one hand he could see Ri in his face, in the shape of his eyes and his cheekbones and Fíli was certain if he took his hand, it would feel the same against his own. But this was Ri turned cold, who wore amethysts as a net in his hair, who wore heavy woven cloth and whose expression was cold and distant. Fíli wondered viciously if this boy could even blush or if that was an ability he only had when he shed his identity as prince.

Ori’s mouth twisted and he looked over the city, obviously looking as betrayed by his father as Fíli felt about his uncle at the moment. “It was easier.”

“Easier,” Fíli repeated, a flash of anger.

“You did not recognize me,” Ori said.

“Why would I have?” Fíli demanded. “We are new to this city, and I have had no need to pay attention to the prince before this.”

Ori winced, unhappy and Fíli wanted to hit him, to give physical proof to some of the pain twisting up his chest, but he also wanted to smooth the tips of his fingers across that frown and smooth it back out. “Of course you hadn’t,” he whispered and Fíli scowled because he felt like Ori had read something into his statement that did not belong there.

“Why did you lie?” he repeated. “What did I do to deserve that?”

“Deserve,” Ori started, startling as he looked finally at Fíli’s face. “It wasn’t about you deserving that,” he said. “You did not. I should not have… but,” he shook his head.

“Was it fun to play a commoner?” Fíli asked and Ori flinched again. “To pretend to be something lesser so long as you could come back to this?” and he waved a hand backward.

“You must think so little of me,” Ori snapped, and Fíli actually had to suppress a smile.

“I am trying to decide how I feel about you,” he admitted.

Ori looked away again, bracing his hands on the banister of the balcony. They were too high up to be seen by most dwarvish eyes. When he moved, Fíli noticed there were ink stains on his fingers and he blinked. “Well,” he said, instead of what he had planned to. “At least you aren’t as dull as I thought.”

“Dull?” Ori demanded, eyes snapping back, and the lights caught the jewels in his hair, and lavender should not have been such a charming color on him. There were even purple ribbons braided into his hair, and it had never been this ornate when he snuck out to meet Fíli.

Fíli shrugged, unrepentant. “The prince, who never leaves his palace, known for liking books and not much else? You sounded dull. I suppose they don’t know you sneak out at night and get picked on by bigger dwarves, or explore Erebor at night.”

“I used not to do that,” Ori said faintly and then the anger was back. “I sounded dull?”

“That man,” Fíli said, not wanting to explain again. “That I kept seeing with you? Is he your brother?”

“Yes,” Ori said, shortly.

“So why are you the crown prince?”

Ori frowned at him, like he expected that Fíli should have known this all already and could not place why he did not. “Because they are not the sons of the king. I am his only son. Our mother,” and he paused, swallowing thickly. “She was related to the royal line as well, but distantly. In fact, you are closer in line for the throne then either of them would be.”

“What?” Fíli frowned. “What do you mean, in line for the throne?”

Now Ori really was staring at him in anger and shock and confusion. “What do you mean?” he snapped, and his fingers had gone white gripping the stone banister. “Of course you know this.”

“No,” Fíli said. “The thought had never entered my mind.”

Ori looked at him and Fíli realized that the prince did not believe him. When Ori spoke, it was slowly. “There is my father, and there is me. After that, I believe the sons of Fundin would be next, Balin and Dwalin. Next closest in the family tree is Thorin, and your line. You are fourth, if not fifth.”

Fíli was staring at him, feeling like someone ought to have told him this long ago.

“Then it is probably Dain,” Ori had been continuing. “Perhaps sometime after that, it would be Dori or Nori.” He finally stopped, turning his eyes back to Fíli. “You must have known.”

“Oddly the line of succession has never crossed my mind,” Fíli grit out. “Or did you think I had grown up coveting a throne I had never even laid eyes on?” He shook his head before Ori could say anything else. “Why does this even matter to you?”

“I am the only son of the king,” Ori snarled, fingers still white and Fíli finally reached forward, prying his hands off the banister before his fingers went numb. Ori flinched back, looking for a moment like he might slap Fíli across the face. Instead, he curled his fingers around Fíli’s hand before yanking both hands back and burying them in his sleeves again. “Of course I have spent time studying the succession.”

“One would think if you died early,” Fíli said, wryly. “That the succession would no longer be relevant to you,” and he knew it was the wrong thing to say the instant the words were out of his mouth.

When Ori looked away and refused to even speak to him he finally broke because silence had always made his skin itch. “Why did you do it?” he asked. “Why sneak out, why lie, why pretend? You always knew who I was, did you not? Was that what it was about?”

“What?” and Ori finally looked at him again.

“You knew who I was,” Fíli repeated. “You always knew.”

“Yes,” Ori admitted.

“Was that what this was about?” Fíli repeated. “You care about the line of succession. You know who my uncle is, who my mother is. Several generations ago we would have been where you were,” and Ori flinched. “Was that what this was about?” He had gone so far beyond the other side of anger that he felt deadly calm.

Ori seemed to partially realize that as he stared at Fíli. “No,” he said finally.

“Then why sneak out with me?” Fíli asked. “Why lie to me?”

“Because you were kind,” Ori said and looked annoyed that the words were escaping him. “And it was nice to have someone be honest with me.”

“Well,” Fíli said. “Honesty has never been something I have had an issue with.”

For the first time all night, Ori actually smiled, but he ducked his head down quickly. “Will that still be true?” he asked and Fíli almost laughed.

“Yes,” he said. “Sorry, I do not make exceptions for royalty.” When Ori looked up at him, he actually looked for a moment completely like Ri again.

 -0-

Thorin remained tense as they walked home, the city around them muted and dark. Fíli would much rather had been exploring it with the young dwarf like he had so many nights before, and it made him ache to realize that dwarf no longer really existed. There was no Ri, simply Ori.

But he would have preferred to be walking with Ori even, then watching Thorin as they returned home. His pride obviously suffered and Fíli could not decide if he agreed with the ache, or wished Thorin could relax enough to accept their lot in life.

Thorin would never accept their lot in life, or his own success as being enough, Fíli had only realized in the last few years.

“I said you should speak to the prince,” Thorin said, voice tight. “Not fight with him.”

“Were we fighting?” Fíli asked innocently and Thorin whirled on him in the street.

“You were fighting,” he said. “You must not.”

“He has no interest in harming us,” Fíli replied, though he honestly could not be confident of that fact. “It was nothing, uncle.”

“We need their favor,” Thorin said and it must have killed him to admit that out loud, and his eyes bore into Fíli’s until Fíli finally looked away. “Do not mock that.”

“I will not,” Fíli tried to assure him. “I have not.”

When Thorin turned away, he let out a long breath and did not slow again the whole way home.

“Fee,” Kíli said, once they had parted ways with Thorin and Dis, climbing in their own chamber. Fíli yanked the ruby clasp out of his hair, dropping it on the side table that existed between their beds. He glared at it a moment before glaring at Kíli, who looked at him with wide, dark eyes.

“We’re not talking about it,” Fíli said.

“But, Fee,” Kíli started and Fíli blew out the lamp. He lay in the darkness, ignoring the shuffling sounds of Kíli who still obviously wanted to talk and realized that despite the night, he still wanted to find that dwarf and kiss him under the lamps of Erebor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Azra.T, “Persephone”


	7. he will use your name like a choke chain

It took Fíli two nights to decide to go back to the lamp post and three for Ori to decide to join him there as well. Or, Fíli thought, watching him approach, Ori had been there another night and had decided to skip the night before for his own reasons. Fíli was not going to ask him.

“Ori,” he greeted, skipping the title or the formal greeting and Ori’s eyes flickered up to his face and down and the boy looked more like Ri than Ori but Fíli could not forget the amethyst or his stiff posture and thus Ri was forever consumed by Ori.

He wondered if he would get used to it in time.

“You came,” Ori said.

“So did you.”

And Ori looked annoyed for a moment. He opened his mouth and hesitated and Fíli noticed that there were still gems in his hair, far more than there had been on other nights he snuck out. “Well, at least you’re not trying to hide it anymore,” he said and Ori’s eyes flashed up.

“I still should not be outside the palace,” he admitted and it felt like he was trying to hold a truce out.

“See, but this is what I still fail to understand,” Fíli said, and his posture had not relaxed and he felt fury that had been building to a sickness inside his chest twist. “What game you were playing with me?”

“You came here to ask me the same question?” Ori asked.

“You did not answer it,” Fíli returned. “You—you came here, night after night to lie to me, and then when we finally did meet officially you threw the succession in my face. You always knew who I was and I never knew who you were. Oh, I assumed you were _wealthy_ , probably the son of a guild leader but not… not the prince, not the future _king_ of Erebor.” And when he said king of Erebor a tiny flush rose on Ori’s cheekbones but otherwise he refused to react. “But you’ve always known who I was.”

“Yes,” Ori admitted, hands clenched in front of him.

“So that is what this was about,” Fíli sighed, because he had learned since coming to Erebor he would no longer be taken on his own merits. Some dwarves seemed to want to treat him as a hero simply for existing, for his golden hair and failed line and they fluttered around like moths, desperate to see the great story and Fíli wanted to kick them all until they left him alone. He was _Fíli_ and that meant above all he was his own dwarf. The others though, they sneered at him, mocked his home and derided his mad grandfather, who Fíli had never known. They called him worthless, useless, mad and poor, though he himself had nothing to do with the folly of his ancestors.

He worried too some nights, that he would go mad and crazy and destroy everything he had worked for but then he reminded himself so far he had not worked for _much_ but he still wanted to be known for himself and not simply who his family was.

He looked at Ori’s tight face and started to swear. “That first day,” he said. “The first time in the market, you had come to gawk too.”

Ori’s mouth thinned. “I had come to look at the books that had come in with the caravan you were a part of,” he said, and Fíli thought of the tattered book Kíli had and how much he must have paid for it.

“How nice,” he remarked and Ori winced again.

“Are you done yet?” he asked.

“No,” Fíli snapped.

Ori folded his arms over his chest and tilted his head back and Fíli could see the prince in him more and more instead of the shy little boy whose hand he had kissed. “This is not what I came here for,” he said.

“What?” Fíli shook his head. “You wanted me to smile and hold your hand and act like everything was fine and you had not lied to me from the start?” and Ori’s expression answered his question for you. “How dare you,” Fíli snarled.

“I had a hope that perhaps we could still talk,” Ori said, stiffly.

“You lied to me,” Fíli said and he had been angry when he first found out but between that moment and this one he had days to stew over the anger and nurse it and fear what Ori really wanted from him. “I heard things about your family too, you know. Since you knew so much about mine it seemed time to catch up.”

“Oh?” Ori asked, tilting his head back and Fíli kept talking because he could not stop.

“Your mother hardly seemed to be a fitting queen,” Fíli said and he felt an odd giddiness to see pure rage flare in Ori’s eyes. “Three husbands, which one do you think was the one she actually loved, if any of them? Two brothers, one in a guild and who actually knows what the other does, except he used to be a criminal? Odd family to have a prince come from.”

“I am the son of the king,” Ori said, drawing himself up to his full height. “ _That_ is what matters.” He waved a hand. “What of your family anyway? Your uncle dragged you all away because he was feeling victimized!” After being back in Erebor, Fíli could finally relate to his uncle, though he kept his mouth shut. “Your uncle, your father dead because you were outside these walls,” Ori continued. “You family who could not hold onto the throne you were entrusted with, now poor and self-righteously poor.”

“Yes, that is definitely why we are poor,” Fíli snarled. “Because we do not work for it, because we are so proud. It is like you wanted to see how the other side lived when you came down here, a prince sneaking around to see the downtrodden masses and then go slinking back to his palace and wealth and comforts. Well, I would rather be poor than the son of a whore.”

He had not meant to say those words.

Neither of them really registered what was happening before Ori moved, his fist colliding with the side of Fíli’s face. The punch did not do much, hitting Fíli high on his cheekbone and making him stagger slightly, and it was obvious that though he had been trained, Ori had never actually hit anyone before.

They stared at each other with wide eyes and Fíli raised a hand to brush his fingers over his stinging cheek. “I,” Ori started, looking frantic and Fíli surged forward. Ori squeaked, trying to lean back except Fíli slammed their mouths together and it was the least expected thing he could have done to either of them.

Fíli had joked about kissing people, especially with Kíli, and sometimes when it was late and he was alone with his own thoughts in the dark he would think about what it would be like to actually touch someone else. What it would be like to touch their mouths and draw someone else’s air into his lungs. But no one he knew actually spoke about it in a serious manner, Dis too distracted by her own pain and survival to talk to her sons of calm things like love making, and Thorin too awkward over the same subject.

Neither of them had kissed anyone else before, and it was an mess but it still made Fíli’s chest thrill and ache, to hold Ori’s shoulders and press their mouths together, to open his mouth and feel Ori’s gasp against his lips and everything felt too warm. His cheek still stung, and he wondered if Ori’s knuckles ached.

“I wanted,” he said, drawing away and Ori stared at him with huge eyes, chest heaving and Fíli wanted to lean forward and try it all again until he remembered how angry he was. “To see what that was like.” He pried his own fingers off Ori’s shoulders and left him there.

Later he would realize they had been on a public street.

Even later he would curl up with the furs pulled over his head, listening to his own heart beat and want to cry because he never really expected to see Ori again.

-0-

Several days later, another royal messenger appeared at the door.

“What do you want?” Thorin demanded, not being nearly as polite as Fíli had tried to be the last time and the messenger quailed slightly, because Thorin had just come back from the forge, and he was still covered in soot and the intensity of his gaze had made many dwarves slink away.

“The King would like to speak to Fíli,” she said. “He has been summoned to the court.”

Standing a little behind his uncle and listening while he munched on a slice of bread, Fíli froze. Thorin seemed just about as thrown.

“By himself?” he demanded. “I thought court was mostly over at this hour.”

“I believe it was for a private audience,” the messenger explained and Fíli almost panicked, and he certainly wanted to throw up.

Thorin turned around and looked at his nephew and Fíli felt sure his uncle could see his panic. “I am hardly dressed to go to court,” he whispered and the messenger craned her neck over Thorin’s shoulder to take a look at him.

“I am certain it will be fine,” she said. “You are supposed to come now.”

“What did you do?” Thorin hissed as Fíli slowly slunk past him, and Fíli could only shake his head. “I told you not to fight.”

“I,” Fíli started and shook his head instead of trying to defend himself or finish the thought. Instead he told the messenger they could wait a few moments and went to toss the bread away and quickly wash his face and hands. He had not redone all his braids that morning, instead staying in the house and Thorin’s forge and figuring a bit of frazzled hair would hardly do him ill.

He regretted that choice as he followed the messenger back through the marketplace and up to the higher districts, finally entering the palace. It felt as oppressive as it had the first time, and yet he could not stop himself from craning his neck back and noticing the level of detail that went all the way up to the tops of the pillars.

People were staring opening, and he tried not to resent it.

Finally the messenger ushered him into the throne room and Fíli came to a complete, shocked stop at the size of the room and the long walkway leading to the throne. “Ah,” Arni, father of Ori and king of Erebor said from the far end of the room, rising from his throne. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

“Ugh,” Fíli managed at first before he shook his head and squared his shoulders. “If I may ask,” he said, any formal greeting or court manners going completely out of my head. “Why am I here?” And he was glad the room was empty except a few guards when the king laughed. At least he sounded amused and the sound was warm but it made Fíli’s stomach twist.

“I simply wanted to talk,” the king said, approaching Fíli and gesturing with one hand, inviting him to walk with the king.

Fíli ducked his head, falling into step and not saying it seemed like a lot of trouble to talk. “About what, your highness?”

“Please, we are cousins,” he said. “You may call me Arni.”

“I,” Fíli started and shook his head. “I will try.”

The king smiled at him again and Fíli clamped his teeth down on how nervous everything was making him.

“I wished, actually, to discuss my son,” and Fíli almost missed the next step. “You fought with him the other night, at dinner.”

“Bickered,” Fíli corrected and wished he knew better than to correct a king.

Arni smiled at him and it still looked benevolent. “Either way, it is not often someone my son’s own age and who is not his brother is willing to be honest with him. Or speak to him like a human being.”

Fíli’s eyes slid over and he barely stopped himself from saying anything. “I think you could be quite good for my son,” Arni continued. “In fact, I would greatly appreciate it if you would endeavor to spend more time with him. I know it may be difficult, as you are also of an age to start thinking of a guild career , but I would also like to give my blessing and suggestion upon you and my son becoming, perhaps, friends.”

“Friends,” Fíli managed to repeat because he was fairly certain that was not technically something they ever really had been or were likely to be. Not exactly. “Your highness,” he said, voice strained. “I do not think you really understand. That night, I bickered with your son, the prince, I mean,” and he gave up completely on trying to sound like he knew what he was supposed to be saying in this situation or which titles to use. “We argued, yes. But the last time we spoke, he punched me. That’s not simple bickering.”

Arni stopped completely and stared at Fíli, who realized he said far too much. “He hit you?” Arni asked. “He actually hit you?”

“Well,” Fíli shifted, certainly not wanting to admit what he said to deserve it. “He has been trained in the proper form of how to hit someone or defend himself, but he has never actually hit someone before, I think. So, whoever taught him did well but, I am not sure exactly what you hope to accomplish with summoning me here and asking me this favor.”

Arni continued to look at him and Fíli shifted under the scrutiny. “You and my son appear to have been doing a good enough job of getting to know each other without my help,” he mused and Fíli wanted to run away. “My son needs people,” he said. “Who are honest with him, who he can depend on.”

Fíli’s mouth twisted and he did not ask if this was also an attempt to get him in particular to toe the line with the royal family.

“I would appreciate it,” the king finished and Fíli inclined his head as Ori appeared at the end of the hall.

“Father,” he started and froze to see Fíli, his eyes widened and he flushed. “I,” Ori started and stopped and Arni looked between them, and the way Fíli had tensed before he smiled faintly and turned back to his son.

“I was simply speaking to Fíli,” he said. “About a minor matter. Perhaps you could see him back out?”

Ori stared before nodding mutedly and Fíli almost insisted he could find the way back out before he left the king’s side with a small bow and finally remembered the proper way to take leave of the king, though he had remembered nothing else.

At first he and Ori walked in silence. “I actually planned on not seeing you again,” Fíli admitted.

“I could tell,” Ori said, looking down and he was still red, and Fíli realized that even as a prince he could blush, and it brought him closer to Ri in his mind.

“I am sorry,” he said faintly. “I should not have said that.”

“And kissing me?” Ori said, finally looking at him and there was a challenge in his eyes. “Will you apologize for that too?”

“No,” Fíli declared and when Ori’s eyes widened he felt lighter than he had in days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Lessons on "Loving a Prophet" by Jeanann Verlee


	8. one look and my heart fell into my stomach like a trap door

“You look like you have been sleeping better,” Dori remarked and Ori pushed his food around his plate some more, smiling at his brother.

“Yes,” he agreed, because he still spent too much time wandering the halls or trapped in his own mind instead of sleeping, but he was not sneaking out in the middle of the night, either.

Arni hummed from where he sat, Ori on his right and Ori’s brother’s on the other two sides of the table, a private dinner at a small table for once. Usually, Ori and Arni had dinner with nobles and visiting dignitaries, but some nights Arni insisted were for family.

“You should relax more,” Nori unwisely said, though he ignored the look Ori gave him.

“I am perfectly relaxed,” he said, a undercurrent of venom in his voice and Nori shrugged, stabbing a piece of roast bird viciously.

His father was now giving Ori a considering look. “Are you really?”

“Of course,” Ori said, tone mild for the lie.

“Then what reason did you have to punch Fíli, nephew of Thorin?” Arni asked, tone still mild and Ori dropped his utensils with a clatter.

“What?”

Arni arched a brow at him. “He mentioned it when he was here.”

“He told you that?” Ori croaked, mind blanking for a moment because he tried not to remember that moment very often. The way Fíli had looked at him in stunned silence for a moment before suddenly he was everywhere and Ori wondered, late at night when his eyes ached from looking at the ceiling, if drowning would feel like kissing Fíli did. “Wait, why was he here the other evening, anyway?”

“I had summoned him,” Arni said, watching his son and glancing over in time to see Nori’s shocked and horrified expression as he started to put together a picture of how Ori might have seen Fíli alone. “I asked him to consider coming here more, perhaps being your friend.”

“I do not want nor need him as a friend,” Ori snapped, because whatever they might be or might have been, friend was not quite right.

“That is what he said, and why the incident in question came up in our conversation.”

“I can’t believe he told you that,” Ori said, more a shocked muttering to himself then directly addressing his father.

“If I may ask, where you hit him?” Arni asked after a moment, and Dori had completely stopped eating.

“On the cheek,” Ori said, not wanting to look at any of them.

“Ah,” Arni said and folded his hands, looking at Ori over his steepled fingers. “And may I ask why you hit him?”

Ori shifted, and he did everything possible not to look at Nori especially. “We were fighting,” he said. “About… I lied to him. We both said things and…”

“What could he have possibly said that made you want to hit him?” Dori demanded, finding his voice first as Nori buried his head abruptly in his hands, the motion startling Ori enough he looked over.

“That’s not,” he said quickly, unwilling to admit what Fíli had said in a moment of hurt in front of his brothers, and especially not his father. “That’s not important. We were both being cruel to each other.”

For a moment there was silence, Dori and Arni considering Ori, Nori with his head still in his hands. “And what did you lie to him about?” Arni asked and Nori groaned, already anticipating the answer.

“About,” Ori started and faltered. Usually around his family he had no difficulty in finding words. “About who I was.”

“Ah,” Arni said, as if that helped explain certain confusing facts, while opening up other ones. “And when exactly did you have the chance to lie to him about this?”

Ori’s hands pulled on the ends of his sleeves, anxious. “When I snuck out of the palace alone at night to meet him,” he said, and Nori let out another high pitched sound.

Arni’s eyes darted over to Nori and back to Ori. “Do you have any idea,” he started, and his deep voice almost broke before he cleared his throat and continued. “How dangerous that might have been?”

“Yes,” Ori admitted. “The first night, some people recognized me and…” he trailed off at the widening of Arni’s eyes. “Well. They tried to take advantage of the fact I was out alone.”

Taking a deep breath, Arni steepled his fingers again, a calming motion. “The first night?” he asked. “Implying even after that you kept leaving, alone, at night?”

Ori shifted and Nori was finally looking at him again. “Yes,” he said. “Well, nothing really happened the first night anyway because Fíli was there.”

“And rescued you?” Nori said, disgust mostly at himself in his voice.

Ori bristled, looking at his brother. “I did not need rescuing! He helped me, and since then I have not been alone for much of the time.”

“You had no idea he was not dangerous,” Dori said, voice low and dangerous and Ori’s shoulders hunched. “In fact, of all the dwarves in this city he…”

“Do not judge him because of Thorin,” Ori snapped. “Besides, he has no knowledge of the line of succession, or interest in it.”

“Do you know how easy it is to lie about those things?” Dori snapped and Ori almost stood up in rage because he did know, it was the fear that kept him up all night sometimes, and why he could not breathe just looking at Fíli.

“Enough,” Arni said, breaking off what Ori was about to protest. “This… Ori. You should have known better but what is done is done. Apparently I had no need of interfering but you will not go out alone and unprotected again, and I do not care what reasons made you justify doing that in the first place.” Arni took a deep breath as Ori looked down. “And being with Fíli does not count as not being alone at the moment either,” he added. “Until we know more being with someone you trust is more important.”

Ori nodded, still looking down and Arni sighed before a brief smile flickered across his face. “You have completely lost your appetite now, haven’t you?”

“Sorry,” Ori offered.

Arni only sighed again. “You are welcome to leave then,” he said and Ori stood quickly, making hasty goodnights and leaving, though he could already see his father pinning Nori in particular with a look.

-0-

Fíli blinked at the cheery looking dwarf in front of him when he stepped into Thorin’s forge.

“Hello?” he said, cautiously, as he deposited the supplies he had gone to market to fetch for his uncle.

“Hello, you must be Fíli,” the dwarf said, a hat whose flaps stuck out perched on his head.

“Yes,” Fíli agreed, still looking at the dwarf in confusion. “Thorin!” he called back into the forge to let his uncle know he had returned.

“I am called Bofur,” the dwarf said, sweeping his hat off his head and sketching a bow. “At your service.”

Fíli founds his brows twitching up. “That’s rather formal of you,” he said as Thorin came through the door to the back, wiping his hands off.

“You’re still here,” he said, squinting at Bofur.

“Aye, and a fine friend you are,” Bofur said, though his eyes were still twinkling. “After years away, not coming to see me or say hello and then just walking away in the middle of our conversation.”

Thorin just stared at him before looking back at Fíli. “Did you get what I asked?”

“Here,” Fíli said, handing Thorin the bag and standing back as Thorin riffled through it to be sure all he had requested was there.

“Have you been giving any more thoughts to guilds?” Thorin asked, nose still buried in the bag and Fíli turned a concerned eye on Bofur, who was still standing there.

“Now, uncle?” Fíli asked. “You want to have this conversation now?”

“It is a simple question,” Thorin rumbled, confusion in his tone.

“It’s quite alright, don’t mind me, as I said, we’re friends from way back,” Bofur said and Fíli blinked, noticing the way Thorin seemed unwilling to look up at that.

Fíli shifted before he shrugged, because his plans, whenever they came true, would hardly be private. “I was speaking to Dwalin,” he said finally. “About possibly joining the guard instead of a guild.”

Thorin paused, looking up finally. “Oh,” he said, and Fíli could see the furrow between his brows.

“You wished I would say I wanted to join you at the forge, didn’t you?” Fíli asked, realization dawning as he spoke.

Thorin shrugged, an awkward roll of his shoulders. “Perhaps. A dwarf must chose the craft that most suits him, that he most desires. You… are good at forging though.”

“And I do enjoy the act of creation,” Fíli said, thinking of the way metal flowed under his hammer and the sparks of fire. “But when I think of that as my fate, I feel claustrophobic and confined. I will not abandon metal work entirely, I think, if I possibly can.”

“I am surprised life with the guard would not make you claustrophobic as well,” Thorin said, that furrow still between his brow.

“It is difficult to describe why,” Fíli said. Or the brief sense of longing he got, passing by the musicians guild. He felt pulled in too many ways, and needed time to test out each path before making a decision, and he hoped he made one that would not bring Thorin’s disapproval.

“Well, the guards are fine folk, more or less,” Bofur said and Fíli frowned at him again, looking at Thorin before shaking his head slightly.

“If that is all, uncle?” he said, wanting to get out of the forge and back into the streets of Erebor. He felt restless, since he spent most of his nights in bed now.

Thorin nodded and with another look at the other dwarf, who was already trying to speak to Thorin again, Fíli slid out the door.

-0-

The palace in the dark was not a friendly place, but Ori did not wish to displease his father more by so quickly breaking his instructions. Instead, he wandered the hallways, his feet eventually leading to the library out of lack of anywhere else better to go.

Lighting the lamp near the door, he took another smaller one back with him, wandering the aisles of the royal archive, moving from scrolls and bound tax reports over into the books written and bound for pleasure and the joy of reading instead of governing the kingdom.

He trailed his fingers along the leather of the spines, pausing at a book that had been put back hastily, so it still stuck out slightly from the rest. Hanging the lantern on a hook designed for such a purpose, he pulled the book out, flipping it open before he read the title. He almost dropped the book when he opened up to an illustration of two dwarf women pressed together, hands in place Ori did not often imagine them putting their hands.

Once he realized what he was holding, he shut the book quickly.

He knew that dwarfs were more honest about sex then elves or men, more open about pleasure. Balin had sketched out sexuality to him in a lesson, long ago, adding that Mahal had created dwarves to love and feel pleasure and there was no shame in either act. There was no need to dwell on it, or be afraid, because some dwarves never loved, and those that did would find their joy in their own time.

Ori had never felt the burning need to know more, to understand how bodies fit together, unlike some of his fellows he knew who seemed keen to talk about it, sharing gossip and stories and eventually their own exploits. He knew they had books such as this, though he had never gone looking for them before.

As he was about to put the book back on the shelf he hesitated, flipping it open again and passing through the chapters until he found the one in the middle, the book falling open to another illustration, text below detailing the act in question. One dwarf man was kneeling in front of the other and Ori stared at the illustration in mute shock, the image of golden hair and a cocky smile looking up at him from his waist flashing through his mind.

With a muffled squeak he closed the book, but still held it because as appealing as the first image was, of Fíli down in front of him and touching him, he wondered what it would be like, to slide down Fíli’s body and come to rest at his feet, to touch his quivering thighs and taste him in the most intimate of places—

Ori slammed the book back on the shelf, grabbing the lantern and turning away. He only got several paces toward the exit when he paused, hesitating again and turning back to the shelf.

“This is foolish,” he said, his quiet voice feeling too loud in the deserted room. “We won’t ever do that, this is foolish.” Except his hand was already reaching out, pulling the book back down and he took it back to his room, to pursue when he felt more settled.

At least he told himself that, unsure if he would ever feel settled while looking at a book such as the one he held, with flashes of Fíli’s laugh and gold hair in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "three questions" by Caitlyn Siehl
> 
> Ori may or may not be at least a little demi-sexual. (Though, frankly, you have to wonder if most dwarves to some extent aren't, considering they love once and fully, though I could see a few affairs happening along the way as they sort it out and figure out who that one might be). 
> 
> Also I just really like the idea dwarves are very honest and open about sex and pleasure. 
> 
> (It was weird but needed to write a chapter where they don't directly interact)


	9. Eyes I Dare Not Meet in Dreams

Thorin had taught Fíli and Kíli how to work metal in the forge, much as their mother had taught them about the hunt, slinking through the forest instead of under the mountain and setting traps. Kíli had taken to that more than Fíli, loving the feel of the bow in his hands and the traps in the snow during winter, when they looked for animals whose furs would fetch the best prices.

Fíli meanwhile had always understood better why Thorin loved the forge best, the creation of something useful or beautiful coming directly from his own hands. Neither of them had been taught dye-work like their father had once done as he died while they were too young, or the particular map making abilities dwarves had, like Ferin. Instead, like all other young dwarves they were taught whichever abilities their guardians had, as a gateway perhaps to finding what they wished to dedicate their lives to, or to perhaps simply better understand the people raising them.

Thorin’s father had been a forgemaster too.

Sometimes, if Thorin was done with his main work, Fíli still went into the forge toward the end of the day, pouring molten metal out and hammering it until all he could focus on was the pound of metal and the way it curved and bent to his will.

Tonight was one such night, and he missed dinner.

“Fee?” Kíli called from the doorway, the forge having closed for business a long time ago. “Something got your attention?”

“Sorry,” Fíli said, no real apology in his words and he leaned back, whipping the sweat off his brow and considering the hair clip he had been working on. He enjoyed making weapons, though not as much as his brother, and not as dedicated as his uncle. Rather, he most enjoyed the small things that made life easier, more beautiful. All of the few clips Thorin or Kíli regularly wore in their hair had been created by him after all.

“You missed dinner,” Kíli said. “I brought you some, just in case you ended up staying up all night in a fever of creation—” he stopped speaking abruptly when Fíli threw the clip he had made against the nearest stone wall. “What was that for?”

“Nothing,” Fíli grit out, because he had not realized he had set amethysts into a deep golden setting, the color of the ribbons Ri had worn in his hair and the stones Ori wore to court.

“Which is definitely why you threw that really nice piece of work into the wall?” Kíli asked, setting the food down on a barrel and moved over to pick up the hair clip in question, turning it over a few times.

“It,” Fíli started because he still did not want to put a single of his thoughts into words, not even for Kíli.

“It has to do with the boy, doesn’t it?” Kíli asked and Fíli’s shoulders sagged because he should have remembered Kíli was good enough at putting things into words for both of them. “The one you were courting that turned out to be the prince.”

“It was not,” Fíli started and realized that would only be a lie. “I did not mean to court him when it started.”

Kíli turned the gold and amethysts over in his hands, watching Fíli. “You were thinking about him when you made this, weren’t you?”

“So what if I was?” Fíli asked, running a frustrated hand through his filthy hair, deciding he would have to wash it out and rebraid everything that night, as he planned to go see Dwalin on the morrow.

Kíli hummed, looking at him with dark eyes in the light from the fires. “Perhaps nothing,” he said and Fíli shook his head as he passed his brother on the way to the food.

“You mean something,” he said, tearing off a piece of the bread and leaning against the barrel, his feet crossed. “You usually do.”

Kíli grinned at him. “You courted the prince of Erebor by accident. I understand you were angry—” And or course Kíli did because he had watched Fíli those first few furious nights, stepping toward the door and burying himself under his furs instead. “But he has clearly not left your mind either.”

“And I should what, act upon that singular fact?” Fíli asked with a cocked brow and Kíli shrugged.

“He seemed to like you too,” Kíli said, and Fíli did not notice that he pocketed the hair clip.

-0-

Fíli found Dwalin in the training grounds near the royal palace. Standing beside him in silence, Fíli watched the trainees for a moment, head cocked to one side slightly.

“Are you sure about this?” Dwalin asked, a low rumble.

“Not yet,” Fíli admitted and watched one of the trainees have her feet swept out from underneath her, landing with a pained sound on her back.

“Think you could handle it?” Dwalin asked, an amused huff and Fíli turned a baleful eye up at him.

“Do you think I could not?” he asked. “I could best any of these dwarves here and you know it.”

“I assume it, I do not know it,” Dwalin said and he sounded amused now. With a huff, Fíli realized what he had walked himself into with those words.

“This would be a test, I presume?” he said, looking up at Dwalin who only smiled back down at him. “Of course it would be. For you or the other guards here?”

“If I accepted you, if you chose this as your path,” Dwalin said. “It would be easier to accept you if you have already taken a go at proving yourself.”

Fíli opened his mouth, about to say something bitter when he decided against that, nodding instead and stretching his shoulders. “Your choice?”

“Of course,” Dwalin said, gesturing another dwarf over, who had also been watching the training going on. He was shorter then Fíli by an inch and squat with muscles up and down his arms to rival Dwalin. Fíli’s eyes flickered back up to Dwalin as he sighed.

“Thank you,” he said, not sounding sincere.

“You want to prove yourself, do you not?” Dwalin asked and Fíli closed his eyes for a moment before he nodded.

Which is how he found himself standing in the middle of a circle of packed down earth, the rest of the trainees and guards standing around, Dwalin with his arms crossed and looking almost bored if Fíli did not recognize his expression of vague worry and pride.

“So you’re the boy of Durin’s line,” the dwarf across from him said, swinging an arm to loosen it, holding an axe.

“ _Really_?” Fíli asked, annoyed to the point he almost missed when the other started moving, the start to the duel. He ducked under and to the side, one of his swords coming up to block the axe and he kicked the other dwarf as he went by before they started circling each other.

“That was low,” the dwarf said, and Fíli hummed, not mentioning the other had all but charged him, or that formal training exercises meant nothing in the wild.

For a while everything narrowed in on the clang of metal as they went back and forth across the ring, Fíli’s twin swords deflecting most of the blows from the axe, and he was faster than the other, but the other was strong and perfectly happy to use brute force to bear him back. He felt himself hit the ground with bruising force, the air leaving his lungs for a moment. Before the other could turn away in victory or finish the job by actually pressing his axe down, Fíli kicked him, tripping the other dwarf too. Scrambling around, he kicked the axe away and straddled the other dwarf, pressing the flat of one of his blades against the dwarf’s throat.

“You were down,” the dwarf said.

“You should know better,” Fíli replied, and he dimly heard the shocked silence followed by a cheer. When he looked up, Dwalin looked both annoyed and impressed. Fíli had gotten all the way to his feet when he turned around and saw Ori standing at the edge of the circle, eyes wide and mouth open.

Fíli took a whole step toward him before he realized what he was doing, performing a quick bow he hoped was the right depth because he could not remember the formal greeting for a prince and Ori was staring at him both like he had never seen Fíli before, and like he wanted to wrap his hands in Fíli’s braids and press their mouths together. Fíli had never been stared at with such hunger and shock before.

“Prince,” Dwalin greeted, and Fíli tore his eyes away to see him approach. “You have met Fíli then.”

“Yes,” Ori said, almost a croak and he cleared his throat. “I did not realize he would be here today.”

“Is that a problem?” Dwalin asked, before Fíli could.

“No,” Ori said stiffly, expression blanking out and he turned abruptly on his heel and stalked off to a far corner of the yard.

Fíli was still getting his breath back, from the fight and from seeing Ori so suddenly. “Does he come here often?”

“Would that be a problem?” Dwalin asked, looking back at him. “He comes here for training, as all princes should, though it does not come naturally to him.”

“No, no problem,” Fíli said, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair, sweeping the braids around his face back. “Sorry, for your guard.”

“If it had been a real fight he would have gotten himself killed,” Dwalin said, not looking impressed. “We have been at peace long enough all most guards know are drills and form.”

The corner of Fíli’s mouth twitched up. “What, no brawls?”

“Those are frowned on in the guard,” Dwalin drawled and Fíli summoned up an impish grin for him at that. “You should go over to him.”

“Me? What? Why?” Fíli asked in quick succession, because Dwalin had tilted his chin toward Ori.

“Think of it as another test,” Dwalin said, already walking away and Fíli stared after him for a moment, regretting the entire morning, in fact the entire idea of even coming here. Instead of shouting after Dwalin, he turned stiffly and followed Ori, to where he was practicing drills with a short sword.

“Can I help you?” Ori asked, not quite looking fully at him.

“Dwalin sent me over,” Fíli said, still stiff. “To help you, I believe.”

That caused Ori to stop, sword held out in front of him at an awkward angle. “Why? Have you joined the guard?” and Fíli could not read the tone of his voice or expression on his face.

“I am considering my options,” he said, folding his arms over his chest. “Would that be so disagreeable to you?”

“I never said any such thing,” Ori replied, almost as stiff as Fíli, except Fíli could see his was compulsively swallowing, and not meeting Fíli’s eyes or looking directly at his face. Fíli’s fingers itched because aside from the minor meeting at the palace, he had not seen Ori since the prince had hit him, and he had kissed the prince in return.

“You know,” Fíli said, because he could not bear the way Ori was not quite looking at him, or the way his own stomach twisted, still high on the adrenaline of the fight and seeing Ori so quickly together. “You should not hold your blade like it is an enemy.”

“I do not,” Ori said, offended and turned back away, picking up the drill again and Fíli winced.

He reached forward, almost touching Ori before he thought better of it, but Ori had noticed, stilling and staring at him. There were only a few silver beads in his braids, pulled back into a simple style more like what Ri wore out at night, and Fíli noted the ever present purple gems in them. His hands itched to remember what he had made the night before, and he wanted to make a hundred more, purple gems set in bronze and silver, in gold filigree and heavy bands of iron offsetting the fragile stones.

Instead, he took a breath and held his hands out. “Hold it like this.”

“What?” Ori asked before he focused on Fíli’s hands and after a moment of seeming to debate with himself he tried as hard as he could to mirror Fíli’s stance.

“Good,” Fíli said and pulled his arms through the drill, one he recognized from Dwalin and Thorin both.

“That,” Ori started and there was a stubborn set to his jaw as he tried to repeat it.

“No,” Fíli said, a shade too quickly for Ori’s pride. “Drop your left elbow more.”

Ori tried that and frowned. “It feels more awkward,” he said. “Like it’s more effort.”

“It will,” Fíli said and Ori frowned at him. “But once you get used to it, it will make it easier. Take it slow a few times, feel the stretch of the muscle and then try going through it faster.”

Ori frowned at him still, like he expected Fíli to trick him before he complied, each time getting a little smoother, though still sloppy compared to Fíli’s economic motions. “See?” Fíli said and Ori swallowed, this time hard enough to be audible.

Other dwarves were staring at them, as Fíli walked Ori back through each motion of the drill, making adjustments to his posture by modeling it himself, and directing Ori to move without touching him. “I thought you had training,” Fíli said, after they had almost become easy with each other.

“Did you?” Ori asked, distracted by focusing on the movements.

“But you never have fought anyone, have you?” Fíli added and Ori stopped, looking at him with a flash of anger. “I mean, when you hit me. It is not to say it was bad persay, simply that it seemed like a new experience for you.”

“You could tell that just from the way I hit you?” Ori asked and Fíli shrugged, neither of them mentioning the kiss that had followed so closely.

“That dwarf by Dwalin,” Fíli said, because he had felt his eyes boring into him from across the training ground since he had started going through the drill in slow motions with Ori. “That is your brother, correct?”

“Yes,” Ori said, not looking back at where Nori was standing with Dwalin, looking more and more furious by the moment.

“Are he and Dwalin friends?” Fíli found himself asking because they stood together like they were used to it from long practice.

“Not precisely, I do not think,” Ori said and Fíli frowned because Nori’s look of rage had not abated. “I cannot believe you mentioned to my father that incident,” Ori said suddenly, falling out of the posture of the drill entirely.

“I did not mean to,” Fíli said, once he recovered from the abrupt topic change. “No, you were almost done, keep going, here, arms go out like this.”

Ori scowled by complied, reaching his arms out again, stubbornly looking at Fíli still. “Why did you tell him?”

“He wanted me to come to the palace more,” Fíli said. “He said you… well… he wanted you to have a friend, who is honest with you.”

“And are you?” Ori asked, and they had fallen out of the drill again, just staring at each other now. “Honest with me?”

Fíli stared at him, before he leaned his sword against a rack nearby, folding his arms over his chest instead as he frowned at Ori. “I always have been,” he said and then continued. “Unlike some I could name here.”

“Don’t,” Ori hissed and Fíli flinched.

“I have ever been honest with you,” he repeated instead. “I have never meant to lie to you, or lead you astray. I am not sure you are willing to believe me, but I have. But I will not come to the palace if you do not want me there. I have no desire to force my friendship on anyone.”

Everyone definitely stared at them now, though most were too far away to make out what they were saying clearly.

“I have no interest in anyone forcing their friendship on me either,” Ori said, and then paused, fingers of his free hand curling and uncurling before he set his sword down as well. “You are a good teacher at this.”

“All of which I learned from Dwalin of course,” Fíli said, flippant. “And I am not doing a very successful job at the moment.”

“Would you consider perhaps doing it another day?” Ori asked, and finally he brought his eyes up to met Fíli’s, though Fíli noted his cheeks were flushing red the instant he did so.

“I,” Fíli stumbled for words, came up blank, and tried again. “Are you serious?”

“Are you comfortable at the palace?” Ori asked.

“Are you comfortable here?” Fíli shot back and they ended up staring at each other. “I,” Fíli took a deep breath, watching Ori slowly flush redder. “If you would like,” he said, forgetting his etiquette all over again. “I would gladly meet you here again, I just did not expect such a request.”

Ori’s mouth twitched and he looked away from Fíli’s face quickly. “Would you rather meet at night in a tavern then?”

“No,” Fíli said, firm and quick and Ori’s eyes flickered back. Fíli had only begun to realize how stupidly dangerous such meetings had been for Ori and he wanted to shake the prince and tell him not to be so foolhardy as to suggest such a thing again.

“Perhaps I will see you then,” Ori said and turned away. Fíli darted forward, grabbing his arm where everyone could see and tugged him back.

“I will come,” he said, meeting Ori’s eyes, which had widened. “If you wish me to come. Wherever that may be, but you have to say the words.” Ori was now staring at his mouth and Fíli remembered how warm his mouth had been, and he wanted to fall forward into another kiss with such an ache he almost fell over with the weight of it, into Ori.

Ori tore his eyes back up to Fíli’s eyes and they remained suspended another moment before Fíli realized he still held Ori’s arm and pulled back. “Good day, prince,” he said, and Ori settled his shoulders back, resuming his usual posture.

“Good day,” he repeated, voice a little shaky. “Fíli,” and when he said his name, Fíli felt a shiver go down his spine. Then Ori turned away again and was gone, Nori shooting Fíli one last furious look.

Dwalin came ambling back over, leaning against the rack of weapons in the corner were Fíli stood. “Lad,” he started, and Fíli took a shuddering breath, squaring his shoulders before he looked over at Dwalin. “Do you have any idea what you are doing?”

“No,” Fíli said, his answer true on every level he could imagine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from the Hollow Men by TS Elliot


	10. i forget the difference  between seduction and arson

Fíli sat, plucking as his fiddle with idle fingers, only half listening to the gossip swirling around the tavern, a drink at his elbow and Kíli brightly chattering with several dwarves nearby.

“Did you hear about the prince?” one dwarf said, to Fíli’s left and suddenly his whole attention turned in that direction, though his fingers kept moving.

“Aye, and Thorin’s nephew,” and he froze as the second dwarf spoke.

He listened as they spun a whispered tale between them, about the prince and the exile and their performance in the training yard the other day. The prince had stared at him, apparently, too long and too hard, and then the boy had dared to actually touch the prince in front of everyone there.

“They must be having an affair,” one of the dwarves said.

“Isn’t it romantic?” another sighed, dreamily and Fíli sat bolt upright.

“Foolish, probably,” the first dwarf said, her voice full of scorn. “Imagine, the prince and that boy? He could be as mad as his great-grandfather, as bitter as Thorin. Is it really so romantic as that?”

“Excuse me,” Fíli said, because he could not listen in silence anymore, standing so the dwarves at the table could see him. They fell silent almost instantly, staring at him. “You might not want to gossip so loudly.”

“Are you and the prince?” the dreamy one asked. “Together, I mean?”

“You think that would be romantic,” Fíli said and she nodded. “Because he is a prince and I have lived most of my life outside of Erebor, heir to a branch of the royal family that had been kicked off the throne and us coming together would be a form of redemption?”

“Yes,” she sighed.

“No,” he snarled, anger almost choking him. “We are not together.” When she stared at him in shock he turned away, fingers tight on his fiddle. “Kíli! We are leaving!”

“We are?” Kíli asked in surprise, turning and taking one look at Fíli’s face before he hurried over. “Alright.”

Fíli stormed out of the tavern, Kíli close on his heels, rage burning in his chest. Who knew how many others were whispering the same things around Erebor and it made him want to scream, to shake them all, and most of all to hope Ori never heard those words. He thought about the way Ori had looked at him in the training ground, the way he had looked at him under the nighttime lights after Fíli had so impulsively kissed him, and his chest ached in a whole other way.

“What was wrong?” Kíli asked, catching up to walk alongside him.

“Nothing,” Fíli grit out and in the next moment reversed his course. “They were talking. About. Ori and I.”

“Oh,” Kíli said and frowned. “What, already?”

“Apparently,” Fíli said, and he wanted to scream into the night streets of Erebor again.

-0-

Kíli was still tilting his head back when the attendant cleared his throat when they reached Ori’s door. “Oh,” Kíli said, snapping his attention back down and sketching a bow, sloppier then even Fíli’s. “Thank you.”

Giving him another look, the dwarf cleared his throat again before pushing the door open and stepping through. “Prince Ori,” he greeted, Ori looking up from the table where he was going over a pile of reports. “Your cousin, Kíli is here to see you.”

“Kíli?” Ori frowned in confusion, clearly thinking he misheard the dwarf before Kíli swanned in, looking around Ori’s room with the same undisguised interest he had given the rest of the palace. Ori’s spine stiffened, watching Kíli warily. “Can I help you?”

“This is a really nice place,” Kíli said, throwing himself into the chair across from Ori and the wonder and vacant regard disappeared from his eyes as he met Ori’s. Blinking, Ori leaned back slightly, trying to decide if he was going to be insulted or not. “So,” Kíli said, while he was still deciding. “You and my brother.”

Ori felt his jaw drop open but Kíli was already blazing past him at full speed.

“I’m not stupid, he’s been watching you as long as you were watching him, and I do mean back in the market before either of you talked. I cannot say I fully understand what’s going on,” and Ori swallowed because he did not either. “But he really has been tearing himself up about you since we got here, for what that’s worth.”

“Has he?” Ori asked faintly, throat working compulsively because he had no idea what to make of Kíli, coming all the way to the palace and dropping so much honesty into his lap all at once.

Kíli shrugged before checking the inside of his jacket until he found what he was looking for, displaying the gold and amethyst hair clip. “He made this,” Kíli said. “For you,” and held it out.

Staring at it, Ori was slow to reach out and accept the clip into his hands, cradling it gently. “Then why is he not here to give it to me?” Ori asked, and he felt a little faint, the closer he looked at the clip.

“Think he’s too embarrassed about it,” Kíli said with a tiny shrug before he rested his elbows on the table. Ori was too distracted to even think about asking him if he knew any manners. Instead, he held the clip closer, seeing the strong lines of decoration radiating out from the jewels, the tiny hinges and the way the gold highlighted the purple.

It should perhaps have clashed but it did not and Ori felt like he was flying just to hold it and know Fíli had made it.

“Can I wear it?” he asked, turning it over in the light to see each angle, each small indentation and decoration.

“Well, that is presumably what it is made for,” Kíli said, brows going up but he smiled.

Ori finally tore his gaze away from the clip and back to Kíli’s face. “Since you came all this way,” he said, still faint. “Would you like a tour? Or, or,”

“Sure,” Kíli said, pushing himself back from the table with as much energy as he had sat there. “Would love to see more of this place. Do you know much about the history?”

Ori quirked a brow at him and Kíli laughed. “I mean, specifically, additions made over time. This was not build in a day, even a century. The decoration changes too much, you know?”

“I can tell you what I know,” Ori said, putting his papers carefully back in a pile and for the moment, pocketing the clip before leading Kíli outside the room.

-0-

“Remind me again why you are joining me today?” Fíli asked, hands held behind his head as he and Kíli walked. Fíli dared not to say he and Ori had a routine of meeting at the training grounds, but each time they met at the same time, every other day, he felt himself coming dangerously close to accepting it as part of his everyday life.

“Because uncle suggested it,” Kíli said, looking around constantly. “He said it might do me well to train with Dwalin for a while and stay out from under his feet.”

“Where have you been spending most of your days?” Fíli asked, because it had not entirely occurred to him to ask before, focused as he was on Ori and whatever tentative thing grew between them.

Kíli huffed, rolling his eyes. “In the market, mostly.”

“The market?” Fíli asked, looking over at him. “What are you doing there?”

Kíli shrugged one shoulder, looking almost bashful. “I… I have been spending time with a toymaker there.”

“A toymaker?” Fíli repeated with a laugh and Kíli’s face turned ugly.

“Don’t mock!” he protested and Fíli whipped his smile off his face as quickly as he could. “He’s kind. I like watching him work. The things he make… I like them. I like him. I like spending time there and there should be nothing wrong with that!”

“There’s not,” Fíli assured him quickly, because Kíli looked hurt. “I was simply surprised is all. I am not knocking you spending time there, or him. Though now, I fully expect you to introduce us.”

“Oh. Uh,” Kíli floundered and Fíli slowly raised his brows at his brother.

“Well, now I have to insist,” Fíli teased as they entered the training yard, Dwalin and Ori already there, Nori lurking around the corners and looking like he trusted no one there. Nodding to Dwalin, it took Fíli a moment to focus on Ori. Sometimes it made him feel dizzy just looking at Ori. They had not touched except brief moments during training since the time Fíli had grabbed his arm and pulled him back, but more and more he thought about the fumbled kiss they had shared and he wanted to try it again, like a burning under his breastbone.

When Ori turned, the light glint off the clip in his hair, gold and deep purple stones and Fíli froze.

“I am going to kill you,” he hissed, not looking away from Ori and speaking to his brother.

“You made it for him,” Kíli replied, utterly calm and unaffected as Fíli finally turned to stare at him, rage banked in his eyes.

“If I made it for him,” he said, under his breath and angry. “Then I should have given it to him.”

Kíli shrugged, looking unconcerned still, though he took half a step away. “You would not have,” he said, which was distressingly true. “And you made it for him. He should have at least known about it, if not have it. And if he knew about it, better he have it.”

“Your logic,” Fíli snarled, but he turned back to Ori, squaring his shoulders back. And he felt his stomach swoop because Ori stood there, watching him with deep and dark eyes and his own work glittered in his hair, catching the light right and reflecting it back. Fíli’s breath caught and he forced himself to approach.

“Ori,” he greeted, voice too low and Ori titled his head back to stare at him.

“Fíli,” he replied, a slight waver to his voice and Fíli raised a hand, thinking better of it before he touched Ori’s hair and instead he cupped the air next to the clip.

“You are wearing it,” he said quietly, stating the obvious.

“You made it for me,” Ori said, almost testing the words.

“Yes,” Fíli said, too hotly and Ori shivered to have it confirmed out of Fíli’s mouth himself, instead of only his brother’s insistence. Fíli’s hand still hovered in the hair, just to the side of his head.

“Then I wear the gift,” Ori said quietly and if their fellow dwarves had been staring at them before, it was nothing like now, the quiet whispers growing to a dull roar around them. Fíli dropped his hand and stepped back.

“I,” he started and took another step away. “I am glad you like it,” and he turned, walking away quickly because he needed to catch his breath, needed time to think. Ori followed him, across the yard and into the shadowed recess of the hallway leading in and out.

“What is the matter?” he asked, almost stepping on Fíli’s heels.

“Nothing,” Fíli said and Ori narrowed his eyes at him. “I just,” Fíli turned and there was still Nori standing on the other side of the passage and watching them, and anyone else could pass through at any moment. “Seeing you, wearing that,” and he motioned with a hand, fingers almost grazing the metal. 

Ori stepped closer and Fíli swallowed hard, hand still dangerously close. “You made it for me,” he repeated.

“Yes,” Fíli said, possession flaring in his chest and he had never felt anything like that before. “I would make you a hundred more, if you would wear them,” and Ori’s eyes widened, almost black in the lower light.

“Yes,” he said. “I would wear them.”

Fíli stared at him, desperate to touch and he leaned down, pressing a kiss to Ori’s temple before he could halt the action and Ori’s breath hitched, and he could feel the puff of air against his throat, Fíli’s hand solidly planted against Ori’s hair. He drew back quickly because Nori still stared at them.

“Come to dinner tonight,” Ori said and Fíli’s eyes widened.

“What?” he asked.

“I often take it alone in my chambers or with father,” Ori said. “Come, have dinner with me.”

“Will it be with your father too?” Fíli asked, a little warily and Ori shook his head.

“Please just come,” he said quietly and Fíli nodded, before he could even think to say no. “Come to the palace, someone will guide you.”

“I will come,” he promised and Ori nodded, stepping back and twisting his hands up in his sleeves.

“We should go back,” Ori said quietly. “They will already talk too much.”

Fíli closed his eyes before nodding, trailing after Ori and back to the yard, Nori watching them approach again. After Ori had passed and before Fíli could, Nori’s hand shot out, halting Fíli’s progress.

“Nori,” Ori started, half turning.

“It’s fine,” Fíli said, glad whatever Nori was about to say would be said in public, Dwalin’s gaze heavy on them.

“We should talk more too,” Nori said. “Later. For now, I believe you have some idea of exactly what I would and will do to you the instant you hurt my brother?”

“Is a threat really necessary?” Fíli asked, and Kíli drifted over, wariness in his posture.

“I do not think you understand Erebor all that well,” Nori replied and Fíli sighed because it was entirely true.

“I understand it enough,” he said instead. “I have training to attend to.”

Nori shrugged, looking unconcerned when he released Fíli but Ori looked livid from where he stood, Kíli coming to a stop beside him. “Perhaps,” he agreed and Fíli mustered another smile for him before Nori left, standing next to Dwalin again.

“Come on,” Fíli said, before Ori stormed over to his brother in fury, instead tilting his head to their usual corner and picking up a training sword. “You need to show me you understand that move this time,” and Ori groaned, Kíli’s laugh ringing out bright across the yard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Why Things Burn" by Daphne Gottlieb


	11. along with the love letters bound in silk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a year and six months since my last transmission.... (no. Seriously. It has. Where has time gone??) (Which is to say it's never too late for this story to come back from the grave)

Thorin unlocked the forge in the morning and frowned to find Fili already there, dunking something in to water. “Have you slept at all?” he asked.

Fíli blinked owlishly at him and shook his head. “I must have not,” he said and Thorin paused, closing the door and not yet opening up the forge for business.

“Is there anything you wish to speak of?” he asked, carefully moving to make sure his tools were arranged for the day, so it did not appear that he hovered over Fíli.

Scowling, Fíli pulled the piece out of the water again. “No,” he said shortly, moving back over to the anvil and Thorin recognized a bracelet forming, in fact almost finished.

“You did not sleep last night,” Thorin said. “Something must be bothering you.” He paused and waited expectantly, only for Fíli to keep ignoring him. “Or someone.”

“Uncle,” Fíli said faintly, finally stepping back and looking at him.

“The second then,” Thorin decided, proud of himself.

Fíli stared at him too long before shaking his head. “Leave it alone. I will either figure it out or not, but I certainly do not wish to speak of it.”

“If something bothers you—you know I said that, well, romance might be better suited for after you had made a choice of Guild but if someone has caught your eye, I want you to know—”

“Uncle, please,” Fíli said with more feeling.

“Are you making that for someone?” Thorin asked.

For a while Fíli did not respond, chewing his lower lip before nodding.

“Who?” Thorin asked, not beating around the proverbial bush.

Fíli gave him another pained look. “I do not wish to speak of it,” he said and Thorin wanted to push, he wanted to sit Fíli down and demand who had earned such hard and intricate work, who mattered so that Fíli forgot to even sleep.

Then Thorin realized what stones were set in the filigree work, still in strong geometric shapes but wrought like spun silk thread. “Fíli,” he found himself saying, a suspicion making his stomach drop. “I told you to get along with him, not fall in love with him.”

Fíli startled, looking back over at him too quickly. “What?” he fumbled with his tools for a damning second. “It's not—love? Are you not jumping ahead uncle.”

“He is a prince,” Thorin said and Fíli narrowed his eyes at him.

“I never said it was the prince,” he said and Thorin should have been proud of how level he kept his voice, but at the moment it only infuriated him.

“Than tell me who that is for,” Thorin said, pointing and Fíli remained stubbornly silent.

“You are assuming,” Fíli said.

“Yes,” Thorin said. “But this is dangerous. He is dangerous. To fall in with him—do you have any idea what your life will become?”

“What part of it?” Fíli asked, and his eyes slid all over the forge except where Thorin stood.

“All of it,” Thorin said. “You would be paraded in front of court and everyone would talk of your mad forebearers and judge you and always find you lacking—”

“They do already!” Fíli snapped. “I cannot even go and play at a tavern without some dwarrow making a dig at our family. I live with this every day, just as you do.”

“It would be worse at court,” Thorin warned. “You would never be able to escape it, or those accusing you of only being there to scheme.”

“You think they would have more discretion if I really was with the prince,” Fíli muttered.

“They would have less,” Thorin repeated.

“Have you spent time at court?” Fíli asked, tipping his head to one side and finally focusing on his uncle.

“Some,” Thorin said.

“Enough?” Fíli asked wryly. “Perhaps you are right. I do not even know what we are doing. But I,” he shook his head. “You are right. I cannot sleep because of him. Maybe we are not right for each other, maybe court will be unbearable and I am only setting us both up to hurt. To break both our hearts. But I do not know that! I want to spend time with him. I want to see what could happen. Give me at least that.”

“I would never take any of it away from you,” Thorin said, and he sat down, a little heavy. His bones ached in ways they had not in his youth and it felt like the entire mountain pressed him down then. “I just want to know that you are being careful. As much as young hearts can.”

“Uncle,” Fíli said, looking away again. “Did you ever love?”

Thorin's mouth turned down and he thought of a laugh, of someone who pressed and pressed until Thorin ran away just to escape the pressure. “I do not know.”

“What?” Fíli frowned over at him.

“I do not know if it was ever love,” Thorin said. “I think I cared for someone deeply. But we both, there were so many other things we both needed to focus on more.”

“And you let that be enough?” Fíli asked, looking down at the bracelet again.

“Yes,” Thorin said and it felt a little bit like pulling his own ribs open to say it.

“Do you ever regret that?” Fíli asked.

“Yes,” Thorin ground out, gravel in his mouth.

Fíli met his eyes. “So you know why I must keep doing this. Why I need to see him and see this through. Just to know. If I can love him or not. If I do love him or not. If it's worth everything I stand to loose.”

Thorin nodded. “I do.” He paused. “You are of course never going to repeat this conversation to Kíli.”

“I'm not?” Fíli asked brightly and Thorin glared him down, hiding how relieved he was when Fíli laughed.

-0-

Ori walked back and forth in front of his door, convincing himself to settle down.

It was just dinner.

He checked again to make sure nothing looked outwardly out of place, the books neatly on their shelves and his furs tucked in and all his clothing hung and folded in the stone closet. He double checked that the book which he had stolen from the library so many nights ago did not stand out.

And yet he felt like his heart was in his throat, waiting for Fíli to arrive. The food would be there any minute and hopefully so would he—

A knock finally came at the door and Ori almost lunged at it. He forced himself to stop at the last moment and smooth down the front of his tunic, making sure his scarf was straight before opening the door.

Fíli gave him a hesitant smile on the other side of the door, his hands in his pockets and looking out of place. He always looked just a little out of place, but it felt remarkably different to see his rougher clothing against the grandeur of the palace.

Ori stepped back, holding the door open. “Hello,” he said, tucking his chin into the scarf in a nervous habit his father had tried to rid him of a dozen separate times.

“Hello,” Fíli said, stepping inside Ori's chambers and looking around in barely even disguised curiosity. But quickly enough he focused back on Ori and Ori tried not to find that as flattering as he did but it made his chest warm and his heart beat too fast. “It is good to see you.”

“You too,” Ori said and they both fell silent, just gazing at each other. “That is, take a seat?” Ori fumbled, his hand shaking a little as he pointed.

Fíli did and almost as instantly rose again, being still too difficult. “If you don't mind, until the food—”

“Of course, of course,” Ori said and Fíli bit his lip, obvious and Ori's mind skittered off, his eyes glued to the sight. It shocked Ori how difficult he found it to say anything with Fíli there, finally without someone else watching and no lies between them.

He just wanted to stare.

Fíli shifted, wandering over to Ori's book case. “You really do like books,” he said, fingers resting on the plain spine of the _book_ and Ori lunged forward.

“Oh, yes, I do, but,” and he grabbed Fíli's hand without thinking about it, desperate to make sure he did not pick that book up and Fíli flinched. Opening his mouth, no excuse coming to mind, Ori realized he still held Fíli's hand and they both stilled then.

“Is something wrong?” Fíli asked, hesitant, and he was close enough Ori could smell what he used to wash his hair, could feel the heat of him and Ori wanted to press against him like a cat, nuzzling in to his warmth.

“No,” Ori said.

“Than why,” Fíli started and Ori dropped his hand. At that moment there was another knock on the door, dinner arriving.

Ori fluttered over, busying himself with making sure the table was set and Fíli gave the books another look before coming over and sitting down and at last they were across each other at the table, steaming food between them.

“This at least looks lighter than the fare at the formal dinner,” Fíli said.

Ori ducked his chin down again. “Did you not like it?”

“It was too much,” Fíli said. “Too rich. I was not used to it. This looks better,” and he smiled, only awkward like he had no idea what he was doing.

Ori sympathized.

For a while they traded inane comments back and forth about the food, about both of their days being fine and lapsed into an awkward silence. “This is not how I expected this to go,” Fíli said finally and Ori blushed.

“We never struggled like this before,” he admitted.

“We also never planned something like this,” Fíli said. “It's so much more formal than just,” and he trailed off because he did not need to remind Ori of their late night escapes, exploring Erebor together. Ori wished he could sneak out of the palace again just to see his kingdom glittering at night, more beautiful for being with Fíli and no one else. “I don't know what to talk about.”

“My mind has been so eager for this all day,” Ori said. “That I honestly have no idea either.”

The corners of Fíli's mouth twitched and his face settled into a pleased expression. “I suppose it helps we are both, once again, just as confused as the other.”

“Maybe,” Ori allowed, poking at his food. Fíli at least had made a more sustained effort to clear his plate.

“We already know so much of each other,” Fíli said. “And yet so little. It is hard to know, how, how intimate to be. Do we talk about the obvious, the things we have, or our deeper emotions, which we do not share lightly?”

“Would you?” Ori asked, eyes snapping up suddenly. “Share your deeper emotions with me.”

Fíli's mouth worked for a moment. “If you would do the same,” he said finally, hesitant. “Maybe not tonight, though.”

Ori looked down. “Yes,” he agreed faintly. But his heart still thrilled.

“Here, I,” and Fíli shifted before reading in to one of his pockets. “You wore the clip and,” and hesitated again before handing Ori a bracelet over the table, silver and amethyst, delicate and strong all in one and Ori forgot to breathe all over again.

The hair clip had turned his world up side down, the fact that Fíli would create such a wondrous thing for him. But this was not only wrought for him, but freely given as intended. He reached out, trailing a finger along the edge of it where Fíli still held it between them.

“It's lovely,” he murmured. “No, more than that. Did you make it for me... too?”

“Yes,” Fíli said and there was something dark in his eyes.

“But you had already made me a gift,” Ori said, still touching the bracelet without taking it yet, marveling at it and frightened at the same time.

“Which I did not give you myself,” Fíli said. “I was too frightened of it. But this I made for you and give to you. Because I want to.” He paused, almost not saying the next thing. “Because I like to see you in the things I have created for you.”

Ori's eyes flared. “Fíli,” he said and Fíli rose, dropping the bracelet in to Ori's hand and coming around the table, Ori rising to meet him too and throwing his arms around his neck when Fíli leaned in to kiss him.

It was wet and warm and Fíli's hand felt huge on his waist, even through all his layers. He stood there, engulfed with Fíli and unlike last time which had been desperate and confused, and the kiss at the training yard which had been not nearly enough, this warmed him to his toes. Making a tiny sound because no one else was watching and only Fíli could judge him, he pressed closer, shifting up against Fíli and he could feel the rise and fall of Fíli's chest against his own.

Ori tangled his fingers in Fíli's braids and Fíli jerked his hips closer and they touched everywhere. Ori could feel his heart rate kick up and keep rising, as Fíli's mouth finally opened and he haltingly ran his tongue along the seam of Ori's lips. Ori moaned and had to breathe before he let his own mouth open and this was better. This was a whole realm of better he never realized he was missing.

Fíli shifted suddenly, pushing him back and with a muffled sound, Ori went until his butt hit the table. He frowned in confusion, not breaking the kiss and Fíli's hands shifted underneath him, lifting his legs and Ori yelped, drawing back as Fíli picked him up and deposited him on the table.

“What,” Ori started to ask and trailed off in a moan when he realized what happened. “ _Fíli_ ,” he gasped, and Fíli kissed him again, stepping in between his legs and Ori happily widened them, his knees pressing against Fíli's hips.

Fíli might have muttered a curse, drawing back and Ori whined at him, until he realized Fíli moved his mouth to his cheekbone, along the side of his face and up to his temple again, echoing the kiss from earlier. His fingers dug in to Fíli's back and he arched in to the touch.

“Please,” he said, and when Fíli looked down his eyes were dark, and his mouth red and Ori almost lost his mind. An image flickered through his mind, the dreams and fantasies he had built off those damnable pictures, of Fíli on his knees and Ori swallowed past his dry throat.

“Ori,” Fíli murmured and was back again, kissing him and Ori ignored the crink in his neck or the fact the stone table was not so comfortable to sit on, because Fíli was warm and everywhere and Ori just wanted to stay wrapped in that moment as long as he could.

-0-

Fíli had almost made it out of the palace when Nori caught up to him, idly tossing a knife up and down as he walked. Eyeing him sideways, Fíli did not slow his steps. “May I be of service to you?” he asked.

“Leaving awful late aren't you?” Nori asked.

“Is it?” Fíli asked, meant to have a bite but he had honestly lost track of him. Under threat of pain he would not have been able to tell anyone else how long he stood there, fall into Ori.

“Yes,” Nori said and flicked the knife up again.

“If you want to say something,” Fíli offered. “You are welcome to.”

“You sure you want to hear what I have to say?” Nori asked and they were watching each other without slowing far more than where they were going.

“I figure you are going to say it to me one way or the other,” Fíli said. “Might as well go along with it. Perhaps it will be less painful that way.”

Finally Nori stopped, yanking Fíli back by one arm and turning him to face Nori. “That boy is my brother,” he said.

“I have a younger brother too,” Fíli said.

“Yes you do,” Nori said. “I doubt you have the same relationship.”

“Probably not,” Fíli allowed.

“That boy is my brother,” Nori repeated. “And I would do anything for him. _Anything_. Even things he would not want me to do. If you lie—”

“I am not the one who started out here lying,” Fíli said because while that wound felt small compared to kissing Ori and holding him and draping him in the things Fíli created, it was still there.

“Be that as it may,” Nori said. “It's not just about him, and it's not just about you. He is the prince. He will be king one day. Never forget that.”

“I am not likely to,” Fíli said.

“Some Dwarrow are going to say you are doing this just to get at the throne,” Nori said and Fíli blanched, before his face turned stony.

“They are welcome to think what they like. Their opinion, if it is that, will not matter to me much.”

“And it does not matter to you at all?” Nori asked. “The whispers, your uncle, this throne?”

“I am not here for that,” Fíli said and took a step back, needing more space between them in his fury. “I liked the boy who couldn't meet my eyes in the market without blushing, who wondering Erebor with him, who taught me why anyone could love this city. I liked the boy with the lavender ribbons in his hair. Frankly, being the prince is what almost ended this.”

Nori looked at him, expression blank. He tossed his knife again, and Fíli found his eyes following it up and down again against his better judgment. “I hope for your sake that remains true.”

“Does threatening me make you feel better?” Fíli asked.

“A little,” Nori admitted.

Fíli's mouth twisted and he turned, walking away.

“I am serious,” Nori said after him but did not follow.

“I would never doubt it,” Fíli muttered, shaking his head as he left. Even Nori and his knife could not extinguish the flutter in his chest, the memory of how Ori touched the bracelet like it was precious, and the taste of his mouth.

As he stepped outside the palace he craned his neck back, looking up at the imposing stone facade and he found himself smiling.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Changing Genres" by Dean Young


	12. my hands talk in apologies: sorry for everything we wanted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So um. The rating changed abruptly. A few chapters ago I was thinking it really should make it's way up to T and then went you know what? might as well just wait a little and jack it all up at once. 
> 
> Look you know i'm just setting them up to knock shit over.

For a while it almost seemed like things fell into a carefully choreographed pattern. Fíli went to the training grounds to work with Ori, who stopped complaining about the physical exertion. Nori carefully did not say anything to Fíli during those times, and Dwalin was often seen shaking his head at nothing.

Kíli for his part spent a lot of time with his toymaker and Fíli tried not to let curiosity get the better of him. He had promised not to spy and felt his determination to stick by his promise slip more and more each day. He instead focused on Ori and their careful kisses and creating more and more things for Ori to wear. He focused on helping Thorin around the forge, and Dís on her hunts when she insisted she needed no one's help, but smiled to have her sons with her.

It was too wonderful for it to ever last long and he should have known that would be true.

-0-

Ori tipped over a little bit in his chair, distracted and only vaguely paying attention to what the other dwarrow around him were saying.

Only the night before he had been pressed against Fíli, his hands large and warm on his waist and when Fíli pulled back Ori almost protested, almost said it was too soon and he needed more. But instead he smiled and let Fíli walk away again, on the verge of screaming or stamping his foot and demanding he come back.

He pulled idly at the edge of his sleeve and tried not to think about how after Fíli had left, he had curled up in bed and felt an ache in his stomach, a warmth that demanded something else. Sliding his hands down beneath the blanket, he pressed them against the ache and quickly drew them back at the spark of pleasure.

Biting his lip he carefully put his hands back above the covers and ached until he fell asleep.

Now he barely paid attention to court, fiddling with his sleeve instead of the bracelet that Fíli had given him the night before, tiny rubies clustered around the amethysts and Ori tired not to dwell on what that meant, or that he wished he could see rubies in Fíli's hair more often. That night when he had come to dinner with his family was imprinted in Ori's mind, and not just because of the revelation or the fight that followed.

Fíli had so clearly been uncomfortable but so beautiful for a second Ori had forgotten how to breathe. Fíli was always beautiful, and yet there had been something about him with rubies and incandescent in his anger.

Ori wanted an excuse to drape him in precious stones as much as Fíli seemed to have made it his own life mission to cover every inch of Ori's skin in something he himself made.

“You have been acquiring the most beautiful pieces of jewelry lately,” one of the courtiers said, her eyes glittering as she leaned over and Ori startled, not having processing her approach.

“Oh, yes,” he murmured.

“You must really tell us who is making them,” she said and Ori blinked.

“They are gifts,” he said, and couldn't stop himself from touching the edge of the bracelet again, the rubies feeling like a declaration.

All of Erebor seemed to know he and Fíli were considered friends now and had differing opinions on what that meant. At least half of Erebor was also convinced they were courting.

Sometimes Ori wished no one knew at all, like at the beginning.

“And no one is saying your mystery artist should give us all gifts! But surely we deserve the right to give them our own commissions. Whoever they are, their work is exquisite and unknown. Surely they could use the patronage.”

“It is not,” Ori started and trailed off, wondering if Fíli would not at that. Thorin was well known and respected, as was Dís at her own trade and they never wanted for food or supplies while in Erebor. And yet they were still indefinably poor, because so few were willing to give them breaks or offer them better rooms. They fought and scraped and were more talented than many others and had to be, just to get by.

“Surely they would not mind,” the dwarf beside him said and Ori bit the inside of his cheek. He was not sure he wished to see Fíli's work gracing other's but—

“Fíli of Durin's line,” he said before he could talk himself out of it.

-0-

Thorin opened the door to the forge, frowning at the well dressed dwarf in front of him. “Can I help you?”

“I was actually looking for your nephew, Fíli,” she said and Thorin tensed.

“What would you—” he started.

“Oh, I simply wish to commission work from him,” she said, tone mild and Thorin blinked rapidly.

“Excuse me?”

-0-

A few hours later found Fíli sitting at a table surrounded by his family.

“And you agreed to take it?” Dís demanded.

“Why wouldn't I?” Fíli asked. “It was just one commission and it was a very hefty sum.”

“The guild of jewelers will not like it,” Dís said.

“It was one commission,” Fíli said. “Anyone can do a commission or two before the guild bothers their heads about it. It's sustained competition,” and he paused before continuing in a smaller voice. “Isn't it?”

“Usually, yes,” Thorin agreed.

“But this sort of work,” Dís said, leaning back in the chair and pinching the bridge of her nose. “Why would she even come to us for this? Lady Merí was the richest dwarf in the Blue Mountains before she came to Erebor a couple years ago. She is not the richest here and yet,” Dís shook her head.

“Ori must have told her,” Fíli said after a beat.

“The prince?” Dís asked and all three of the men looked back at her. “What have you decided _not_ to tell me?” she asked.

“I have been making gifts for the prince,” Fíli said finally. “Thorin knew because it was his forge. Kíli knew because it was his fault this started.”

Dís stared at her oldest son. “Are you courting him?” she managed finally.

Fíli opened his mouth to say no and then closed it again. “I think so,” he said finally and she startled, for despite asking the question she seemed to have not expected that answer.

“Do you know what you're doing?” she asked, and there was a tenseness in her posture now.

“No,” Fíli admitted.

She reached out across the table, taking his hands. “Than you have to be careful,” she said. “He seems a wonderful enough boy, and a good enough prince. But because of who he is, and because of who _we_ are, people will always find a reason and a way to judge you. Most will find you lacking in _something_. Promise me you will be careful with him.”

“I am,” Fíli said. “I will be.” He gave her an almost queasy smile. “I promise.”

-0-

The next two days were filled with dozens of courtiers appearing on his uncle's doorstep and Fíli started hiding in the back.

“We honestly cannot take any more commissions,” Thorin said and there was an edge of desperation in his voice.

“Oh, are you worried about the guild?” the dwarf at the door asked and Fíli wanted to hit his head on the wall. “Because I'm fairly certain they're on their way right now to recruit him.”

“What?” Thorin asked and Fíli actually fell over, catching himself on the wall before he smacked his head in to the anvil.

“With the amount of attention his work has gotten, both from the prince and Lady Merí, you cannot be surprised,” the dwarf said and Fíli wanted to protest he had never started this for fame or money or anything except to see the way Ori's eyes darkened when he presented him with something else he made. The bracelet with the rubies had been his most daring and he had given it with his heart in his throat, beating too quickly.

But the dwarf was correct and within an hour two representatives from the jeweler's guild were sitting across from him at the table.

“I really do not know how it came to this,” Fíli said, and wanted to bury his face in his hands.

“Your talent is amazing,” one of the guild members said, his beard a fiery red. “Usually we have prospective members audition. I hope you realize how rare it is we go seeking someone out.”

“But it is not just your talent,” the other guild representative said.

“Competition,” Fíli sighed. “All this demand for commissions. I really did not expect this to happen. The first one I took thinking it would be one of maybe two or three to come my way, not _twenty_.”

The red haired dwarf laughed, shaking his burly head. “Ah, lad. You started out with gifts to a _prince_. What did you expect to happen?”

Fíli flushed, opened his mouth and then shrugged instead of biting out his first response. “Not this. I technically did not even mean for him to receive the first thing I crafted for him.”

The second representative, her hair neatly braided in to her thick beard gave him a knowing look and with a swoop to his stomach, Fíli realized these two would know which rumors were true now. His blush deepened.

“Lad, be that as it may, you are talented,” the first representative said. “You would not be having this trouble if all you made were pretty babbles an infatuated prince wore because the thought pleased him.”

“Actually, considering the fads of court life, it might still,” the second dwarf said.

The first one laughed. “True, true. But whatever the case, you _are_ extremely talented. It's not just about competition! It's the fact that we would have to be mad not to try and snatch you up. I know you spend time with the guards but the captain Dwalin expressed that you were probably not to join them.”

“You spoke to Dwalin about this?” Fíli asked in some surprise.

“We did not just show up at your doorstep,” the first representative huffed into his beard. “Of course we had to check other potential guilds. It is proper protocol.”

“Oh,” Fíli managed.

“And you have expressed interest in several places without ever committing,” the second representative said, and something in her eyes were too knowing.

“I,” Fíli sighed. “I never found something I wished to tie myself too. Music perhaps—” and he cut off. Thorin and Dís both voiced their support of whatever guild he wished to enter, but both viewed music as an indulgence instead of a life's work.

“So you have an artist's soul,” the second representative said. “Perhaps this is the compromise you've wished for, without ever expressing it. Art but made at a forge sometimes too.”

Fíli considered her, wishing she would be less astute. “Perhaps.”

“Of course with any apprentice coming in to our guild, there will be a period of trial for both us and them,” the first dwarf said, leaning back in his seat. “We must be sure we are right for each other all around. You do not have to apply or submit a trial piece though, which is more than most dwarves coming to us receives. And if you do not wish to join—”

“Stop taking commissions?” Fíli offered wryly and they both smiled at him.

“You catch on quickly,” the second dwarf said. “That is good.”

-0-

“So will you join the guild?” Ori asked, and he could not seem to sit still, giving up and pacing around the room.

Fíli leaned against the table, arms crossed over his chest and watching him. “It surprised me as well,” he said instead. “I did not expect, well, any of it.” His eyes kept following Ori. “Are you upset?”

“I shouldn't be,” Ori said, and shook his head. “No. I am not. I am _not_.”

“Yes you are,” Fíli said and when Ori turned a glare on him, he had the gall to smile. “It is flattering, in some no small way. That you are so upset.” He paused, face serious again. “I admit I do not enjoy crafting pieces for others as much as I do for you.”

“Good,” Ori said and felt too much vindictive pleasure color the words. Fíli smiled again and Ori hurt with how much he needed him to be closer. “Fíli,” he said and Fíli seemed to know what he meant because almost instantly he was there, tipping Ori's face back for a kiss.

It was wonderful, as they had learned how to kiss together, what felt good, what felt _better_ , but Ori clung to him tighter, wanting more. He whimpered and pulled at Fíli's coat and thank Mahal Fíli seemed to sense some of his desperation, backing him up a couple steps until his back hit the wall. Boxed in completely by Fíli, he moaned and a rumble answered him from Fíli's chest.

“Please,” he said and Fíli pulled back, eyes dark and Ori wanted—

“Please what?” Fíli asked. “Is this not what we have done for—for nights now?”

“Yes,” Ori said. “More.”

Fíli's breath caught and he paused, pressing his nose to Ori's hair and just focusing on bringing air in and out of his lungs. “More? Like what?”

“Don't make me,” Ori started, tugging on him and if possible dragging him closer. “I _ache_.”

He did not want to admit how often he flipped through that damnable book now. How he stared at the illustrations and thought about Fíli, with those hands that crafted such beautiful things for him, and how they might feel inching inside his body. How it would feel to be flat on his back with Fíli above him and possessing him and how much that idea terrified him as well.

Dwarves did not consider it a weakness, so long as there was love but Ori could not shake the fear of letting someone like Fíli take him as much as he drove himself mad wanting it.

“I know,” Fíli said, voice rough. “I too—” and he let out a harsh breath, dragging Ori closer again and he leaned his head down, nipping at his throat and everything felt too hot, too close.

He realized his hips were jerking, desperate for something more the same time Fíli noticed too and the groan from his throat sounded like it hurt.

“Fíli,” Ori said, fingers threading through Fíli's braids and accidentally tugging a few hairs out of some of his carefully wrought style. “This isn't—please—”

“This isn't what?” Fíli asked, and Ori hit his shoulder because he drew his mouth back.

“This isn't wrong. There is no reason,” Ori blushed. “ _Please_.”

He had promised himself he would never beg but that seemed to galvanize Fíli who shoved him harder into the wall, swallowing his almost wail as he slid his hands down to Ori's hips and urged him against him and they were there, rutting against each other and Ori did not care. He just wanted.

It did not matter if it was inelegant, because Fíli was making choked sounds like the air was being yanked out of him and his _hands—_

Ori's hands ached, his body ached and he accidentally slammed his head into the wall but even that did not matter, not when he shook and suddenly felt hot and tight all over and then—He bit down hard on Fíli's shoulder, coming apart at the seams.

Embarrassment hit him all at once, and he drew back, ineffectively shoving back at Fíli's shoulders when he realized Fíli was looking down at him with dark and awed eyes. “Fíli,” he started and they were still against the wall, still clothed and he felt sick now instead of elated. But Fíli just reached his hand down, brushing against the wetness there and Ori shivered. “Don't—”

“I've never,” Fíli said and his voice was full of marvel so Ori snapped his mouth shut. “I've never made someone,” and Fíli nuzzled up underneath his ear, breath warm and Ori still found it in his exhausted limbs to shiver. His smile drove all thoughts of shame right out of Ori's mind.

“Oh,” he exhaled, felt a thrill that Fíli had _never_ and Fíli kissed him again, open mouths shoved together and there was even less grace now, Ori loose limbed and heavy in Fíli's hands. He held on, one hand still in Fíli's braids and the other dropping to his waist. “Do you think you?” and Fíli bit his throat, hips stuttering. “You should come like this too,” Ori said and felt another low thrill when Fíli shook against him, on the verge of following what might have been an order.

Ori nuzzled against him and urged him just that bit closer and held on as Fíli shuddered his way through coming and they were both a mess now, and Ori did not care.

He would care when they had to clean up enough for Fíli to go home but for the moment he held on and basked in the warmth and the pleasure and felt almost all the way to peace.

It was too wonderful for it to ever last long and he should have known that would be true.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "MOON SONGS & OTHER COPING MECHANISMS" by Emily Palermo


	13. how real hunger has a real taste

“Now, Kíli,” Dís said one night at dinner and Kíli winced, already expecting what was to come. “You should seriously consider a guild yourself, since your brother—”

“But he's older than I am!” Kíli protested and Fíli focused on the food in front of him with a single minded intensity which proved he did not find it that interesting. “If I choose a guild in two years, I will still have entered one before he did. I should at least have that much time!”

“Two years?” Thorin rumbled, his brows going up.

“Or a year!” Kíli said and off their looks he quailed. “At least six more months?”

“Choosing a guild is not the end of your world the way you two make it out to be!” Dís protested.

“It could be!” Kíli countered.

“How?” Dís asked.

“You both grew up here,” Fíli said, cutting Kíli off. “Maybe you do not notice it as a result. But everything is more structured here, including the guilds.”

“They give you more protection,” Dís said.

Fíli rose abruptly, taking what dishes he had barely eaten off to be scraped and cleaned. “Perhaps protection is not what we need or want.”

Dís glared at Thorin over the table and both Fíli and Kíli could feel the fight starting over how they were raised, on the road and away from the traditions of their home.

“Everything about Erebor is more oppressive,” Fíli snapped and left the room.

-0-

“Do you want to talk about it?” Kíli asked the next day, kicking the edge of the bed as he sat and watched Fíli work on his complicated braids.

“Not particularly,” Fíli said.

“I thought you were starting to be happy here,” Kíli said.

Fíli sighed, his hands stilling for a moment too long before he finished the braid and tied it off with a silver clasp. “It is not that I am becoming less happy,” he said. “I am happy here. I am working on it, at any rate. But that does not change the fact this place is oppressive, compared to what we know.”

“Yeah,” Kíli sighed, and kicked the stone bed again. “You are not wrong about the guilds. Do you like it there so far?”

“It is alright,” Fíli said, tone mild.

“What a glowing recommendation, brother,” Kíli said and rolled his eyes. “It is alright! You are supposed to find your home there and build a life and your reaction is only that it is alright?”

“I am finding my way is all,” Fíli said, unhappy.

Kíli bit the inside of his cheek. “Sorry. I know you are. Do not worry! Just be your usual charming self and I am certain they will grow to like you! Well, maybe be more charming than usual—”

“I think most of their like or dislike of me has little to do with me,” Fíli muttered and Kíli looked away at the wall.

“Alright,” he said and both brothers refused to look at each other. “That is probably true.”

-0-

Ori tried not to pay attention when Fíli's work started appearing on more and more dwarrow at the palace. It stood out as obviously his, but Ori still owned the bulk of it, and what was given to him remained far more intricate with obvious care taken with it.

Not that anyone else complained about their own beautiful pieces, and in fact they often compared them and talked of him as the greatest current fad at court. Yet still it made Ori feel too exposed, for all to see him in his gifts.

For them to realize with material obviousness exactly how much he meant to the boy who had not grown up in Erebor.

“You know, of course that he is only using you,” a dwarf said beside him and Ori jumped, having barely been paying attention to who approached.

“Excuse me?” he managed, scrambling for the dwarf's name mentally.

The dwarf beside him shrugged, and he wore one of Fíli's rings himself. “Simply that it is too obvious, do you not think? That boy, son of the usurped kings, who grew up in exile, suddenly returning and courting the prince of the realm? Is he not your cousin, beside?”

“There is space between our lines,” Ori grit out.

“But you cannot deny what he stands to gain,” the dwarf said.

“Lord Dulin, I would respectfully ask you to keep such vile opinions to yourself,” Ori replied stiffly.

“So you are blind then?”

“Get out,” Ori grit out and Dulin laughed, apparently to himself before leaving. Ori watched him go, fists tight in his sleeves and trying to breath.

He did not need others to take his fears and throw them back in his face, and certainly not at court where any could hear.

-0-

“What in Mahal's name is going on?” thundered across the room and Fíli looked up from where he had ended up on the floor, grappling with another of the apprentices at the guild.

“He started it!” the other apprentice gasped.

“I did not,” Fíli said, even though his knee was against the other dwarf's throat and he clearly had been winning the scuffle. “You started it.”

“Which does not dearly matter when it comes to fighting among guild members, let alone apprentices!” the master yelled, one of the ones who had come to recruit Fíli with her hair braided into her beard. “We have standards to uphold.”

“Lady Tele—” the dwarf protested as Fíli let him up and stepped back.

“Be quiet,” she snapped, turning to Fíli. “Please explain.”

Fíli worked his jaw for a moment, trying to figure out how to explain the last several minutes.

“He attacked me!” the other apprentice started.

“I seem to recall asking Fíli,” Tele said dryly.

“I did not just attack you,” Fíli insisted. “You insulted my family, called us all mad, and than insisted I only entered the guild because I seduced the prince to try and get ahead! And that it was patronage alone that allowed me to stay instead of any talents I might possess!”

Tele's eyes went cold. “While that is not an excuse to fight,” and Fíli winced. “It is understandable. _No one_ gets into this guild without good reason and we do not take patronage cases. More so, the question of Durin's line is not for you, nor are the private affairs of the prince.” She leveled Fíli with another look. “However we cannot condone fighting. Control yourself.”

Fíli worked his jaw before nodding. “I will.”

“And I do expect all of you to not try and provoke him,” she added, looking around the room. “We are here to be artists. Not fighters and not gossips. Judge each other based on your own work and talents, not on family or other relationships. Have I made myself quite clear to all of you?”

“Yes,” chorused back most of the apprentices, except Fíli who had already agreed with her.

“Good,” she said and pointed them in to a work room. “Now I expect you to all go and show each other what you can do.”

-0-

Dwalin looked up when Fíli entered the training grounds, arching a brow. “I am surprised,” he admitted. “I thought you would still be deeply buried in adjusting to you guild.”

“I am,” Fíli said. “But I do not wish to loose my other skills as well.”

“Which means you have stress you wish to fight off,” Dwalin said with a grin and Fíli shrugged.

“I am a dwarf,” he said. “And I have had to fight for my survival as well. I do not wish to let this city make me soft, and I am not supposed to fight with my guild mates.” There was a sardonic twist to his mouth as he spoke that gave Dwalin pause.

“Have you been already?”

“Let us simply say I understand Thorin more than I ever expected to,” Fíli said. “I know why he left. The whispers that follow us,” and he kicked at one of the training dummies, most of the other guards long gone for the day. “It is unbearable!”

“You will simply have to learn to bear it,” Dwalin said and threw Fíli a practice sword, considered, and tossed him a second one, Fíli catching both.

“The way they speak of us,” Fíli said. “It came up from time to time, in the Iron Hills, of course it did! But dwarrow here act like they expect something of me—either for me to go mad in front of them or, or to be something I am not!”

“The first I understand,” Dwalin said. “But what do you mean by the second?”

“Sometimes they look at me as if they expect I should be on the throne instead of Ori,” Fíli said softly. “I hate that perhaps more than the other. I have no wish to rule. I can barely stand the confines of a guild, of this mountain. I have no desire or ability to rule. Even Ori acts like he expects I would want to!”

Dwalin paused, his sword held up in the ready position but neither of them moved against each other. “Are they speaking so openly of it?” he asked.

“No,” Fíli said, eyes sliding away. “No more than drunken murmurs when I simply want to play music. But I am disappointing to everyone except those who want to sigh over my courtship of Ori like we were heroes in some ballad!”

“Perhaps you are,” Dwalin shrugged. “Or will be someday.” But he filed away Fíli's words of a murmured revolution to look into at the earliest convenience.

“Not you too,” Fíli growled and darted forward, wooden practice swords hitting each other at last. Fíli was fast and agile on his feet but Dwalin was surprisingly fast himself and they went back and forth across the practice yard until finally Fíli dropped his swords and held up his hands. “I yield, I yield for the night. I am already sore from so much detail work today that I shall have to continue tomorrow.”

“I am glad you are keeping up with your skills,” Dwalin said. “It is good not to let them go to waste.”

“Well you never know when you might be called upon to fight,” Fíli said.

“Try not to get into more fights with dwarrow in this mountain,” Dwalin said.

“No promises,” Fíli said and after helping Dwalin he turned to go, only remembering he forgot the piece he had been working on at the guild on the bench when he entered the yard and turned back.

From the time he left to walk only a couple hundred yards and turn around, Nori appeared.

“Is there something I can help you with tonight?” Dwalin asked, hanging armor back where it belonged from where he had been cleaning it before Fíli arrived. Fíli stopped, not quite entering the yard yet and feeling guilt claw at his throat for eavesdropping.

“Surely I do not have to tell you about the rumors I hear everywhere,” Nori said.

“About Thorin and his family?” Dwalin asked, mild.

“Yes,” Nori said. “Whether they are just rumors or not—”

“They are,” Dwalin said, and his tone was still the same level and mild one he had been using which Fíli could not ever recall hearing.

“Your job is to protect the royal family,” Nori said, and there was anger seeping in around the corners. “Are you certain you are still doing that or are you protecting them?”

“They have no designs on your brother's throne,” Dwalin said. “They are hard working people. Proud, perhaps, especially Thorin, but that is hardly a crime among us. It is not their fault who their family once was.”

“But you cannot deny others wish to use it—”

“But they do not,” Dwalin said.

“Simply do not forget it is your job to protect my brother and his throne, for him.”

“I never have,” Dwalin said.

There was a funny moment of silence that almost made Fíli want to peek around the corner. “Are you ever going to stop seeing me through the lens of the past?” Nori demanded.

“I do not know what you mean,” Dwalin started.

“Do not!” Nori snapped. “Do not think I do not notice that tone you use only with me! As if you have to force yourself to be so stiff and polite instead of what, trying to drag me off to prison?”

“Is there a reason I should drag you off to prison?” Dwalin asked.

“Not any more which is my point!”

“You used to be,” Dwalin said.

“And does no one get to escape their past to you?”

“That is never the issue I had with you,” Dwalin said and Fíli desperately wanted to look around the corner now.

“Than what exactly is it? I know I used to drive you mad all over this city—”

“For decades,” Dwalin said and his voice did not sound quite so mild anymore.

“Yes and you chased me for decades! But that was a long time ago now.”

“Yes, it was,” Dwalin replied.

“So I repeat again, what exactly is your problem with me?”

“We both work to protect this realm,” Dwalin said. “Is that not enough for you?”

There was silence for a very long time. “I will find out,” Nori said, a warning.

“You have been trying for quite some time,” Dwalin said and Fíli thought he heard Nori stomp off, thankfully leaving from another entrance. For his own part, he decided to piece up his piece on the way to the guild in the morning.

-0-

Ori tried not to watch Fíli's hands when he talked, hating the attention he gave them. He just wanted them on him, every time he saw Fíli and they stood apart instead of pressed together, which frankly the former was more often than the later. Ori refused to let himself give in as much as he wanted.

And he did, genuinely, enjoy just spending time with Fíli, listening to him talk, watching him move. But that never stopped the burn in his stomach, the need for more that he refused to ask for.

Part of him loathed how much he enjoyed letting Fíli push him around, engulfing him with his larger frame and pressing him to the wall or to the table. He was a prince and he should not want to be overwhelmed.

But he did, he ached for it and he swallowed it down viciously and only let Fíli touch him some of the time. If Fíli found it odd or wanted more than Ori allowed him, he kept it quiet.

“Say, Ori,” Fíli asked, and Ori blinked, forcing himself to focus on Fíli's face.

“Yes?” he asked.

“This, this courtship we have,” and Fíli obviously did not want to ask what he was about to. “Will we ever make it public?”

Ori stared, biting his lip. “Do you want to?”

“I feel no shame in what we are,” Fíli said. “Eventually—we would have to. Wouldn't we?”

“If we are both serious of it,” Ori said and he could not quite look at Fíli, but he caught enough of his expression out of the corner of his eye to see the frown and the darkened eyes.

“I am,” Fíli said. “I am most serious of this. Have I ever done a thing to make you doubt it?”

“No,” Ori said, still looking away. But his own fears were magnified by everyone around him, asking of Fíli's intentions and reminding him of all his family had lost and perhaps stood to gain. But than Fíli smiled at him and Ori felt certain it could not be true, not Fíli, not the open happiness on his face.

When Fíli left that night, Ori had the nagging feeling that he had not spoken of what he most wanted to. Ori rested his head against the stone door and cursed all of his own desires and the mountain of Erebor and Mahal that had created them all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Lies about Sea Creatures" by Ada Limon 
> 
> Also I've been noticing a trend on ao3 in a couple different stories where if I update a story twice in 24 hours I get a grand total of no comments on the second chapter I post. Is it a weird thing with subscriptions? Do people not see? I'm really confused. 
> 
> (Please feed your author they have a horrible sinus infection and have been writing about foolish dwarves to cope with it)


	14. Nothing Suggests itself. There is Nothing to do but Keep On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Poem, Abbreviated from the Conversation of Mr. T. E. H. by Ezra Pound. (Who is a really shady character, don't get me wrong)

Fíli walked through the market, trying not to keep an eye out for Kíli and thus not fully watching where he went. He usually avoided the market, simply because there were too many other dwarves, all calling out their wares and arguing and haggling and laughing together, set against bright swatches of colors.

It was not even the density of other dwarves so much as how large it was compared to what he knew.

But Dís had sent him off with a list of things for the household and admonishment to leave his brother alone. Fíli had almost protested, insisting he had been a paragon of discretion when it came to his brother—which was true. Mostly because Fíli did not have the time to go trailing after him to figure out who he spent all his time with. Kíli had asked for space, his eyes dark and voice small and Fíli had agreed to give it to him.

He would be a good brother, even if it galled him.

A sound to his left made Fíli startle and look over without stopping, which caused him to trip over a box that had been left in the main walkway. With a yelp, he went down, barely catching himself on his hands.

“You have got to be kidding,” he muttered to himself, pushing himself back up and freezing as an angry dwarf with part of an ax embedded in his skull leaned down and started yelling at him. “What? I don't understand—”

“Bifur!” Another voice called. “Leave the poor lad alone. He was obviously not watching where he was going,” and when Fíli looked up, Bofur grinned down at him.

“Oh, it's you,” Fíli said.

“Oh, it's me,” Bofur repeated and shook his head, expression mournful. “Whatever must you think of me to react like that? What have I done to you and your family boy?”

“Nothing,” Fíli said, pushing himself back to his feet and brushing himself off, Bifur still muttering something darkly at him. “I don't think? I'm not sure my uncle likes you much.”

Something fell in Bofur's expression but he caught it so quickly Fíli started to doubt himself. “Ah, perhaps it only seems that way to you! Your uncle is most fond of me. He would have physically picked me up and thrown me out before now if he wasn't, at least a little.”

“Perhaps,” Fíli agreed after a beat.

“Come, come,” Bofur said and Fíli finally noticed the stall he had tripped on, filled with strange toys, dragons and other dark creatures next to wheeled sheep with strange faces, and tiny wind up chopping axes. “Sit down, let us get you a drink. It's only hospitable.”

“Please tell me I did not just trip over Kíli's toymaker,” Fíli said and Bofur laughed.

“Ah, yes, your brother and Bifur have become friends, I think,” and Fíli allowed himself to be shoved inside and given a seat. Bifur nodded at him, something softening in his expression at the mention of Kíli and he gave Fíli a cup of something gently steaming. “I'm a little confused by it myself,” Bofur added and Bifur glared at him. “Look, I'm not saying you shouldn't have friends just that I'm confused—”

Fíli sipped his tea, looking around still. “You're very creative,” he said at last.

Bifur and Bofur stopped, both looking at him, and Fíli felt himself start to flush so he drank the tea instead.

“He is, isn't he?” Bofur said, and his smile was unbearably fond.

Bifur snorted something and turned away, going back to whatever he had been working on when Fíli had interrupted them. Fíli watched him for several moments before realizing Bofur was watching him.

“Can I help you with something?”

“No,” Bofur shook his head. “Simply that sometimes you remind me of Thorin.”

Fíli blinked, almost asked, and then shrugged. “He did help raise me,” Fíli said. “And he's never quite explained why he puts up with you.”

Again, a strained expression crossed Bofur's face but he kept smiling. “Puts up with me. Ah, yes,” and he tugged his hat off, fiddling with it before putting it back on.

“You're not a toymaker,” Fíli said when Bofur didn't say anything else. There were still some streaks of dust on his face, and there was only one set of tools in the stall.

“Ah, no, a miner,” Bofur said. “I just help out here sometimes. Our other brother, Bombur, he's a chef. Mostly. He cooks and it sells so he says he gets to call himself a chef. I think that's a human notion to be honest,” and Bofur was suddenly going, babbling about anything that came to his mind and Fíli found himself smiling.

“Fíli?” a scandalized voice said, Kíli suddenly there and staring.

Fíli froze, the tea halfway to his mouth again. “This is not what it looks like,” he said. “I did not plan this I swear,” and Kíli didn't look like he believed him at all, but when Bifur grinned up at him and started chattering in whatever language he spoke, Kíli's posture relaxed.

After a few more moments of glaring at Fíli he sat down as well, and somehow they passed the afternoon that way, Bofur carrying most of the conversation and at the end of the day, he helped Fíli with his panicked shopping, even carrying some of it back with them.

“You're just trying to get Thorin's attention again,” Fíli said, and Kíli kicked him in the shin but Fíli finally had a suspicion of why Bofur kept hanging around.

Bofur just laughed it off, and when the door opened he grinned up at Thorin. “Hello,” he said.

“What do you want?” Thorin asked, and Fíli and Kíli had already trailed inside, but he blocked Bofur.

“What I always have I suppose,” Bofur said and as Fíli set his wrapped packages down, and looked back at the tense line of Thorin's shoulders, and Bofur's open and desperate expression, he swore at least he and Ori would never end up like the elders around them.

-0-

Fíli watched a servant clear the table. Ori never remarked on the servants when they came to his private chambers, but it bothered Fíli a little. “There's always so many dwarves in Erebor,” he said instead. “The market place here, for instance. It's hard to navigate sometimes.”

“I've never been out of Ereobor,” Ori said. “Well, not for very long. I went on a procession down to Dale a few times, but that's a ride that can be done within a day.” He paused, looking at Fíli. “Is it so different?”

“Yes,” Fíli said, pushing himself back from the table a little. “Everything is different. I miss sleeping under the stars.”

Ori pulled a face. “Wouldn't that feel... empty? Frightening? I'm used to sleeping under a mountain, I think I would fear the sky falling on me.”

Fíli laughed. “It doesn't fall, not that often.” He paused. “Mother taught us to hunt. Do you think we might ever do that? I could protect you, just the two of us—”

Ori's mouth opened and for a second they both looked like they wanted so much. “I think,” he paused. “I'm not saying it would be a full escort but I do not think they would let us out of the mountain alone.”

Fíli opened his mouth, almost insisted on something and then shut it again. “Yes, of course,” he said and looked down.

“I miss it though,” Ori said and Fíli looked at him again. “When it was simply the two of us. When I could sneak out and we could walk around Erebor without everyone knowing,” he broke off. “I actually tried, the other night. I missed it so much. But Nori actually was waiting for me, chatting up some guard near the door.” He shook his head. “So I just went back to bed.”

“If it's dangerous,” Fíli said finally.

“I can take care of myself!” Ori snapped. “I am a prince and a dwarf! I am not even some human, of a sickly constitution. We are made of the stone to be strong. Would people stop treating me like—”

Fíli reached out, cupping his chin and Ori stopped, eyes darkening abruptly. Fíli found himself fascinated by the things Ori felt wiling to tell him, versus the things Ori's body indicated. “I am sorry, my prince,” he said, just to see the way Ori's chest lifted when Fíli called him by title. “We care for you. Of course we wish to protect you.”

Ori reached up, brushing his fingers through Fíli's hair. “I know.”

“Do you trust us?” Fíli asked. “Me, your brothers, your father?”

“It's not about trust,” Ori said, and shifted and Fíli dropped his hand. “It's about my own abilities,” and Ori would not look at him as he spoke.

Fíli nodded, forcing his expression to remain smooth. He had noticed that no matter what they spoke of, Ori would never say he trusted Fíli.

It was starting to feel like a wound underneath his breast bone. Widened a little more each day, each time Ori pulled back from him. Healed each time Ori smiled at him, or leaned into him like all he needed was the warmth of Fíli's skin—

But more and more it felt like a wound.

-0-

Fíli and Kíli had played at tavern's less since Fíli started his work with the guild and Kíli spent more of his time with Bifur at the market. One night, Fíli had rolled over and asked Kíli if he planned on telling Thorin he was joining the toy maker's guild and Kíli threw his furs wadded up at his brother as Fíli laughed.

But this night found them back at the tavern nearby their house, several of the regulars clapping to see them back. Playing soothed Fíli as it always had, and it was not even fully about the applause at the end. He wondered, not for the first time, if he had chosen the right guild path.

Between sets, he sat, plucking aimlessly at his fiddle, making sure it remained tuned as a dwarf approached him. “Can I help you?” he asked without looking up.

“Haven't seen you around here lately,” the dwarf said, leaning against the wall. Fíli felt fairly sure he recognized him, for before.

“It's been busy,” Fíli said, giving him a smile. “New guild and all that.”

“There's also a lot of stories about you and the prince,” the dwarf said, tone deceptively mild and Fíli tensed.

“Are there?” he asked, the fiddle still jammed under his chin as he plucked at it, looking like he paid more attention to his task than the other dwarf.

“Rumors,” the dwarf said. “About you courting him.”

“I'm fairly certain if I did that is no one's business than our own,” Fíli started.

“He's a prince and you're the bastard son of usurped kings—”

Fíli rose suddenly, the clatter of his chair getting Kili's attention. “I am not a bastard,” he said. “No matter what might have happened to my ancestors I am not a bastard child—”

“Be that as it may,” the dwarf said, still watching him. “If you got close enough to the throne, you know there are those who would support you—”

Fíli stared at him in mute confusion for too long before he realized what the dwarf implied. “I thought you said I was a bastard of unwanted kings.”

“Usurped kings,” the dwarf corrected him, as if that meant anything. “Not unwanted.”

“Get out before I report you to the guards,” Fíli snarled and the dwarf tensed, confused for a second.

“You must know,” he started again.

“I said get out,” Fíli snarled, Kíli finally reaching him.

“What's going on?” he asked, a hand on Fíli's arm and ready to jump whichever way Fíli needed him to.

“Nothing,” Fíli said. “Because he was _just leaving_.”

The dwarf scowled at him, before turning and doing just that. For a while, Fíli stood shaking in rage, as Kíli tried to get him to tell him what happened, what went wrong.

“It's nothing,” Fíli said finally. “Nothing, leave it alone.”

“That was obviously not nothing,” Kíli protested. “Don't forget I'm not stupid, brother.”

“It's not about that,” Fíli said finally. He sighed, bowing his head. “Let's go home,” he said and Kíli frowned before trailing after him. Halfway home, Fíli finally opened his mouth again, carrying his fiddle at his side. “Some dwarves seem to expect us to want to take power.”

“I noticed that too,” Kíli said softly. “Like, they expect our ambitions should be revolution?”

Fíli shook his head. “We don't _want_ that.” He paused, looking at Kíli. “Right?”

“Mahal's stone no!” Kíli said, shaking his head vigorously. “There's enough pressure on me already, thanks!”

Fíli managed a shaky laugh, slinging an arm over his brother's shoulder. “I don't want to over throw Ori,” he said. “Why would I? When I just want to be allowed to love him.”

They both came to a stumbling stop at the same time.

“Fíli,” Kíli said carefully.

“Damn,” Fíli said, staring unseeingly ahead of himself.

“Fíli,” Kíli tugged on his arm. “Are you okay? You just said you loved him, didn't you? Didn't you just say that? It's a big deal for a dwarf, Fíli. You know what we're like. We don't love more than once, we can't, we're stubborn like the stone. Fíli, are you sure?”

“Stop it, Kíli,” Fíli said faintly.

This was supposed to be a happy moment, he thought, so why was he suddenly only afraid?

“Does he love you?” Kíli asked, voice pitching higher because they had all heard the stories, of dwarves who gave their hearts to someone who didn't want it. “I know, with the two of you, I know he's gone on you too but does he _love_ you?”

“I don't know,” Fíli said and wished the answer had been an obvious and resounding yes. He refused to look Kíli in the eye.

-0-

Ori sat, fretting at the edge of his sleeves, because Fíli did not seem capable of sitting down. “Is something wrong?” he asked finally.

“No,” Fíli said, shaking his head and he sighed, leaning his hip against Ori's book case and crossing his arms. “It has been a long several weeks.” He considered Ori and Ori almost slunk away. “You know more and more dwarves are aware of our relationship.”

“Yes,” Ori said, thought they still had said nothing publicly. It was their business what they did and until—unless—Fíli became Prince consort that was how it would be. Ori felt his heart leap into his throat when he realized he had thought _until_ before _unless_.

“It feels like all of Erebor must have expectations of us,” Fíli said. “Dwarves keep approaching him as if,” and he cut off abruptly, paling.

“As if what?” Ori snapped, and he must have gone pale as well, the whispering fear that never let him alone suddenly turning into one long scream in his mind.

“There are some who seem to think,” Fíli started slowly. “That I am only using you. For my ancestors.”

“Oh,” Ori said, as if the thought had not kept him up at night, as if it did not cause him to pull back time after time.

Fíli was suddenly moving again, in front of him. “You know it is not true!” he cried. “It could not be! Ori, I have no ambition, I do not desire Erebor. If I stay here, it will be for you, not because of my own desires.”

“What?” Ori blinked at him, and felt himself quake at the idea that it would be so easy for Fíli to leave, and to never see him again.

“I would stay,” Fíli said. “If you wish me too. I would stay for you. But I have no desire for Erebor. I would leave if there was nothing tying me here.” He said it like he was only realizing he meant it as the words came out of his mouth.

“Don't go,” Ori said, compulsively reaching out to grab his arm. “Don't go. Don't ever—”

Fíli kissed him, and Ori let him, even rising to his feet so Fíli would not have to bend over so much. He dimly realized Fíli kept repeating his name in between kisses, and Ori clung tighter, twining his hands in Fíli's hair.

“I'll stay,” Fíli murmured and kissed him again.

“Do,” Ori said. “Do stay.”

“Ori,” Fíli said, pulling back after several more kisses that were searingly desperate. “Ori, I want you.”

“Excuse me?” Ori said, and Fíli's eyes were shining with something he had not said yet.

“We've always pulled back,” Fíli said. “Before, before we,” he broke off, nuzzling against the side of Ori's face. “I hear stories, from older dwarves, I've read the romances people commission as coming of age presents. I know what two dwarves can do together and I want.”

“It,” Ori started, feeling overheated because he wanted, he wanted so much his throat was dry with it. He had thought about it so many times and yet—

“I am a prince,” he said finally.

“What has that to do with it?” Fíli asked, drawing back in some confusion.

“To be taken by another,” Ori said, forcing the words out of his throat. “I simply, it is that—”

“If that is the problem, than take me,” Fíli said as if it cost him nothing to say.

Ori stared at him, mouth hanging open, frantically reorienting the images in his own head. “Oh,” he managed, almost a moan. “We could—you would?”

“I don't care,” Fíli said, still holding him. “What would it matter to me? I just want you,” and he seemed to be stopping himself from saying something else but Ori didn't care, because all he could think about was his bed, not so very far away from them at all, and the images in his head, and the heat of Fíli's hands, his body so close.

“Yes,” he said instead and let Fíli back him to the bed, the furs covering the stone. “Please,” he added and Fíli dropped onto the bed first, Ori following him.

-0-

The next morning found Ori back in court, trying not to look at his wrist where Fíli had bitten him by accident, riding the crest of his passion. Instead he tried to focus only on what his father was saying, when Dwalin walked through the far doorway.

Beside Ori, Nori tensed suddenly as Dwalin approached the throne. He often stood by his brother in court, to the point Ori had forgotten how often he was there.

Dwalin started talking, of rumors that he had reported weeks ago that were suddenly more than rumors. Goblins from Moria were skirting the greenwood and heading North, and meeting up with other orcs somewhere to the Northwest.

Murmurs went up around the court and Arni's face was pale when Dwalin informed the court that war had come.

 


End file.
